The Nature of Bargains
by elan0rjoy
Summary: Rhysand's POV before, during, and after he called in his bargain with Feyre. Taken from assorted chapters of ACOMAF.
1. The Nature of Bargains

_**Month I**_

Cassian had just arrived with a box of liquor so large that it threatened to pull him down as his enormous wings drew him towards the training ring atop the House of Wind. It had long been the place where we-he, Azriel, and I-had taken to going when we wanted to get drunk enough to forget the world. The tradition had started centuries ago, and was probably an idiotic one, given the height and Cassian penchant for throwing down challenges when he was inebriated, but it was too late to give up on tradition now.

He set the box down and whistled when he saw the bottles I'd already taken from the House of Wind's generous wine cellar several stories below. "Is it my birthday?"

I smirked at him. Cassian didn't know why I wanted, needed, to get drunk enough to lose touch with the world tonight. I could have told him and he would have understood, would have been more than happy to help me drink myself into oblivion. And maybe Mor had told him some of the details about Feyre, but she'd sworn that she'd keep everything she knew about the mating bond to herself and she'd kept her word. Even if he did know something, he was keeping his mouth shut and I loved him for it.

I summoned two tumblers and filled them with brandy, handing him one and raising in a toast, "To bastards and half-breeds and-"

A wave of nervousness washed over me so strongly that I forgot the words I'd been about to speak. I had prepared myself for many things to rush through the bond today, but nerves like this hadn't one of them. What came through the bond was not pre-wedding jitters, but the nervous horror that I sometimes felt before a panic attack. Across from me, Cassian was frowning, his hand reaching for the sword strapped to his back.

"Rhys?" I didn't respond right away, the emotions at the other end of the bond were too strong. Cassian set his tumbler down and reached out to grip my shoulder. "Is it her?"

Cassian knew about my connection to Feyre, of course. They all did. This had happened before, sudden waves of sudden and nearly unbearable emotions that came on so strongly that they caught me off guard. Mor was the only one who knew the cause of my behavior when a wave like this hit me and while I was much better at keeping them from affecting me than I had been three months ago. But Cassian knew about the bargain I'd forged between myself and Feyre and understood a little of what was happening when I reacted like this.

I nodded in answer to his question, keeping my focus on the bond, trying to ascertain if Feyre was alright. Guilt, despair, and fear washed over me in waves. And then panic and terror and that horrible trapped feeling that I knew all too well. I hated that she was feeling this now. She should be happy. I _wanted_ her to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. It was her wedding day. She shouldn't be feeling this. She should be overjoyed. Not terrified. Not smothered with fear and guilt so strong it made it hard to breathe. That she was feeling so much pressure and guilt and this unending well of despair now was unconscionable.

Cassian squeezed my shoulder. I reached up to grip his hand, drawing on his strength and support as Feyre's guilt and agony mixed with the thing that lingered deep inside me and threatened to come to life.

"Is she alright?" Cassian's voice seemed far, far away. I tried to focus on it, tried to let it bring me back to the House of Wind and Velaris, but then Feyre was pleading, her voice so loud in my mind that it was almost as if she were standing directly in front of me.

 _Help me. Help me. Help me._

Just like that, any resolve to allow her wedding to pass without interference disappeared. It was the first time I'd heard her voice in three months and it was so full of panic and despair that I couldn't breathe.

 _Save me-please save me. Get me out. End this._

Through the bond, I saw a pool of red at her feet and Tamlin's face, moving towards her with worried eyes and a tight mouth. And then...

 _No._

"I've got to go," I whispered. I'd stepped away from Cassian and winnowed out of Velaris before I had time to think twice about it.

I followed the pull of the bond, allowing it to guide me to her. My strategy pulled itself together in the seconds it took me to find her. It was easy enough, something I'd allowed myself to think about on dark days when I thought I'd go crazy from knowing that she was out there and still hurting. What I would do, where I would take her if I ever decided to call in my bargain. It was never a plan I'd intended on enacting. The Spring Court was already terrified of me, thanks to how I'd raided the manor that awful day when Amarantha had sent me for Tamlin. I could use that to my advantage, get Feyre out of there, and then deal with the consequences she'd most assuredly unleash on me later.

I barely remember to hide my wings and shift my clothes into something more appropriate for a wedding. I hadn't bothered to put a dampener on my power, was too distracted by the pit of fear she'd fallen into, and I when I arrived, the crack of power that announced my presence was loud enough to shake the ground and leave people screaming in its wake. Clouds of night streamed from me, my own fear and anger made manifest, and when they cleared, all I saw was Feyre.

My breath caught and for a moment, I forgot about everything but her face, her beautiful, beloved face as she stared at me, horror momentarily masking her despair and torment. It was the horror that brought me back to myself, to the role I would need to play in order to save her. I straightened the lapels on my jacket, the barest moment to collect myself and shift into that awful role I had to play.

"Hello, Feyre darling."

I heard the shift of weapons sliding loose from their scabbards and the way Tamlin's claws sliced through the air as he and his men prepared to attack. It was maddeningly easy to stay their hands and freeze their bodies as I looked around the garden where we stood, taking in the ribbons and flowers and the gentle glow of fae lights bobbing on the breeze. The Spring Court at its finest, every blossom blooming, every blade of grass a perfect shade of green. My eye caught on the pool of red rose petals that Feyre stood in the center of and I was reminded for the barest moment of her body crumpled and broken in a pool of blood. I struggled to get the image out of my mind.

"What a pretty little wedding…" I murmured, turning to look at her, to remind myself that she was alive and well and had to struggle not to grimace. She was dressed in a gown that reminded me of something that had been baked and frosted more than of a wedding dress. But even the layers and layers of tulle and silk and chiffon couldn't hide how thin she'd become or how pale her face was. I was vaguely aware of the crowd of courtiers who were tripping over themselves in an attempt to flee my presence, but I was more caught up in her dull eyes and the dark circles beneath them to notice or care. I put my hands in my pockets to hide how they trembled with rage at the sight of her so broken.

They'd put her in gloves. Hiding away the ugly reminder of all she'd done in order to save them beneath a layer of silk. I shook my head and clicked my tongue. What had been happening here while I had been trying to force myself to ignore her?

"Get the hell out," Tamlin growled. He'd broken free of my hold on him and he was stalking towards us with a murderous expression on his face.

I didn't move a muscle. My power was stronger than his and he knew it. He couldn't harm me.

"Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling." I felt her horror pulse through the bond and ignored it. She had called out for salvation and I was here and if she hated me for it... Well, I'd deal with that later.

"You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen," I said, the mask of dark amusement that I saved for the Court of Nightmares falling into place as I watched the denizens of the Spring Court stumble and trip over themselves in an attempt to get away from me. I hated playing this part, I truly did. I turned my back on the terrified fairies and looked down at Feyre. "I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me."

She was trembling from head to toe, the fear from before twisting into something else entirely. She was looking at me the way she had Under the Mountain and it was going to kill me. I looked back at Tamlin. "I'll be taking her now."

"Don't you dare," Tamlin growled. He looked ready to tear me to shreds. Good. He should fight for her. She deserved that much at least.

"Was I interrupting? I thought it was over." I looked back down at her and saw her realized that I had heard her through the bond, saw her understand that I knew, _I knew_ she didn't want to marry him. I smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. "At least, Feyre seemed to think so."

"Let us finish the ceremony-" Tamlin began, bargaining with him already. I had been prepared to fight him, wanted to fight him. Wanted to have the opportunity to tear him into shreds for allowing her to do this to herself. It was a struggle to keep my rage in check, to keep from obliterating the entire damned estate.

"Your High Priestess seems to think it's over too," I said instead. Ianthe had vanished and I was glad for it. Our last encounter had not been pleasant.

Tamlin's claws were already slipping back into his hands as he realized that Ianthe had indeed abandoned him. "Rhysand-"

"I'm in no mood to bargain," I interrupted. I was not the pathetic fool that the High Lord of the Spring Court was. "Even though I could work it to my advantage, I'm sure." I took her elbow, my whole body singing at the contact even as she startled beneath my fingers. "Let's go."

"Tamlin." It was first word she'd said aloud since I'd arrive and it was so full of fear and disbelief. She wanted him to fight for her, to do something, anything to save her from me and he was just _standing_ there.

"Name your price."

Bargaining. Still. Had he learned nothing Under the Mountain? Did he understand the cost of inaction? Pathetic and idiotic.

"Don't bother," I said as I hooked my elbow with hers.

I could feel her shaking, could feel the power in her too-slender body. She could fight me off if she wanted. But all she did was whisper in a broken voice, "Tamlin, please."

"Such dramatics," I muttered, pulling her against me so that I could winnow her out of this ridiculous excuse for a wedding.

Tamlin stayed exactly where he was, unwilling or unable to do anything but watch me leave with his bride. "If you hurt her-"

"I know, I know." Was that the best he could do? I would have burned the world down if someone had tried to take her from me. "I'll return her in a week."

Feyre went still in my arms, her face even paler than before as she watched Tamlin let her go. I wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close. "Hold on."

Her hatred towards me was a palpable thing as we winnowed away. But her fury was also alive and pulsing and so much better than her fear and despair from before that it was bearable. At least she had not disappeared so completely within herself that she was unreachable. It was a relief.

I took her to my palace atop the Court of Nightmares. It was open and airy, entirely the opposite of the Amarantha's court Under the Mountain. I had spent nearly a month sleeping here when I'd first come home. I had needed to see the sky and moon and the stars without walls or glass to keep me from them. It was where I had envisioned myself bringing her when I had daydreamed about calling in the bargain. It was a good place to heal, the impossible openness of the building and the beauty of the surrounding mountains and skies was as close to flying as one could get without actually being in the air.

"Welcome to the Night Court."

I watched her take it in, saw and felt her unadulterated awe and then her confusion. This was not what she'd been expecting. I had spent half a millenia hiding the true nature of the Night Court from the rest of the world and still I had to remind myself that she thought I ruled a land of horrors. It was an easy enough mask to keep in place most of the time, but with her I wanted to let the mask fall away. Her absurdly poofy skirts swished and hissed against the moonstone floor as she turned one way and then the other, her mouth slightly agape.

"This is my private residence," I explained, careful not to let anything I felt show on my face.

When I spoke, she stopped her survey of our surroundings and turned to look at me, a tiny frown between her eyebrows as she scanned me from head to toe. I let her take her time looking me over and tried not to preen too much for her.

As soon as her eyes landed on my lips, she scowled at me. "How dare you-"

I couldn't help it. I snorted at her indignation. "I certainly missed _that_ look on your face." I moved closer to her, drawn to her presence like a moth to the flame. "You're welcome, you know."

"For what?"

I should have known better than to say anything. In spite of the ridiculous wedding dress, in spite of how pale and thin she was, I wanted to hold her. I froze and put my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching out and touching her. She didn't want to be here. Even if she didn't want to be married to Tamlin, that didn't mean that she wanted to be with me either. And yet, she had been _begging_ for salvation.

"For saving you when you asked," I said, keeping my voice smooth and light.

"I didn't ask for anything," she snapped immediately.

I looked down at the left hand, only to be reminded that they'd hidden the tattoo I'd given her beneath white silk gloves. Cauldron forbid anyone be reminded of how much she'd willingly sacrificed to be with _him_ on their wedding day, to keep the world safe enough for them to even _have_ a wedding day. I couldn't keep the snarl inside as I reached for her hand and ripped the glove off it. She cringed at my touch and tried to pull away, but I didn't let her go until both gloves were off. I did not want to forget all that she had done.

"I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "I didn't say anything."

I took her left hand into mine again and turned it over so that the eye I'd put on her palm faced us. Some Illyrians thought the All Seeing Eye granted them focus in battle, which is why I'd given it to her in the first place. I was fairly certain that I knew why I could feel, hear and see her and I was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the tattoo. Still, I tapped my finger against it, unable to let her think there was anything more between us than the bargain. "I heard it loud and clear."

"Take me back," she hissed as she pulled her hand away. "Now. I didn't want to be stolen away."

"What better time to take you here?" I asked with a shrug. "Maybe Tamlin didn't notice you were about to reject him in front of his entire court-" She stiffened at that, her grey eyes flashing like quick silver. "-maybe you can now simply blame it on me."

"You're a bastard," she said. "You made it clear enough that had...reservations."

That was putting it lightly, but I didn't argue the point. "Such gratitude, as always."

She glared at me and took a long, deep breath. " What do you want from me?"

That was more of a loaded question that she could possibly realize. I wanted a lot of things from her and I knew it was unlikely that I would ever get any of them. I kept it simple.

"Want?" I asked. "I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you take off that hideous dress. You look…" She looked like a doll that a three year old had dressed. She looked like a present, all tied up with ribbons and lace, waiting to be unwrapped. She looked like she was meant to be so soft and pliable that all it would take was a puff of air to move her. "You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be."

"You don't know anything about me," she snapped. "Or us."

"Does Tamlin?" I asked, giving her left hand a pointed smile. "Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colors?"

I might have gone too far with that. She had frozen in place and was looking at me with such indignant anger. Her eyes sparkled with it and her cheeks regained some of their color. "Get the hell out of my head."

"Likewise," I snapped back, drawing away from her to keep myself from doing something I'd regret later. "You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down that bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep."

"Prick," was her only retort. The one word held so much anger that it made me laugh aloud. If I wasn't careful, she'd likely punch me. I changed the subject. "As for what else I want from you…" I waved a hand towards the house. "I'll tell you tomorrow at breakfast. For now, clean yourself up. Rest."

I looked at that ridiculous dress, her absurd hairdo and wondered if I should call for Nuala and Cerridwen to help her get herself out of all of it. And then I realized that she hadn't been meant to take the dress off on her own. Tonight, Tamlin would have stripped it from her. The thought made my guts twist. "Take the stairs on the right, one level down. Your room is the first door."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that I'd just sent her to the room that had belonged to my mother here. They were a sanctuary for her, created by my father specifically for her back in the beginning, when they had thought they were in love. Even years later, she had loved them and had often chosen to stay here rather than in the House of Wind. They hadn't been touched since she'd died, but I liked the idea of Feyre in them.

"Not a dungeon cell?" she asked, mostly out of anger, but then a hint of fear trickled down the bond.

Cold wrapped itself around my gut. "You are not a prisoner, Feyre," I told her. "You made a bargain and I am calling it in. You will be my guest here, with the privileges of a member of my household. None of my subjects are going to touch you, hurt you, or so much as think ill of you here."

In fact, if I had my way, most of them wouldn't even know that she was here at all.

"And where might those subjects be?" she asked, her fear still plainly written on her face.

"Some dwell here-in the mountain beneath us." Another tremor and I reminded myself that all she knew about the Court of Nightmares was that Amarantha had modeled her court Under the Mountain after it. I tried my best to assure her and assuage her fears. "They're forbidden to set foot in this residence. They know they'd be signing their death warrant." I looked her in the eye and prayed she'd believe me when I said, "Amarantha wasn't very creative. My court beneath this mountain has long been feared, and she chose to replicate it by violating the space of Prythian's sacred mountain So, yes: there's a court beneath this mountain-the court your Tamlin now expects me to be subjecting you to. I preside over it every now and then, but it mostly rules itself."

She was still afraid, perhaps even more so than when I'd started speaking. "When-when are you taking me there?" I felt her panic rising up at the thought, her terror at the thought of going back underground.

"I'm not," I promised, choosing my words carefully. "This is my home, and the court beneath it is my...occupation, as you mortals call it. I do not like for the two to overlap very often."

Her eyebrows lifted and I had to fight back a grin. "You mortals?"

"Should I consider you something different?" I asked, delighted that she'd risen to the challenge and glad to sense that her fear was beginning to dissipate.

But she reined herself back in, unwilling to play any games with me. "And the other denizens of your court?"

"Scattered throughout, dwelling as they wish." It was a vague enough answer to irritate her a little, but it wasn't a lie either. "Just as you are now free to roam where you wish," I added, wondering if she'd take me up on the offer.

"I wish to roam home," she snapped back and I laughed aloud as I walked away.

"I'm willing to accept your thanks any time, you know," I called, unable to leave without having the last word.

I should have known better. She was angry. I could feel it through the bond and my words were like a spark to a tinder. I'd barely finished speaking when something hit the back of my head hard enough to make me gasp in pain and surprise. I whirled around to find her armed with...a shoe in her hand, one of her dainty silk slippers, ready to throw it at me again. Fury rippled down the bond. Good. She deserved to be angry.

"I dare you," I growled through clenched teeth. This was the girl I knew. This was the woman I loved. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed, her body taunt with unharnessed energy. And this time, she did play with me. The shoe went flying so fast that I barely had enough time to grab it before it crashed into my face. My hand stung. She was damn strong to be able to throw something that hard. I stared her down as I clenched my fist around the piece of silk and beading and dissolved it into stardust.

I looked at her again, this time with analytical eyes, the way I might size up an opponent. Her body, beneath all that lace and silk, was strong. Her skin glowed ever so slightly, power thrumming in her veins Her eyes were sharp and her aim had been deadly.

"Interesting," I said and then turned around and left before I did something that would really piss her off.

I heard her exhale in an angry huff and then slip down the stairs as I made my way to my favorite alcove. I needed a drink and then I needed to come up with a plan. But I most definitely needed a drink first. I tossed open the curtains that separated the alcove from the rest of the palace and nearly jumped out of my skin when I laughing female voice said: "So that went well."

Mor. I'd forgotten that I'd told her centuries ago that she could stay here whenever she had business in the Court of Nightmares. Her presence had never been unwelcome to me, for all I griped about her annoying cheerfulness. I loved my cousin and was happy to give her a refuge from her childhood home. Besides, it was nice to have someone else in this enormous place.

Well, it usually was.

She was sitting in my favorite chair, tossing the first shoe that Feyre had thrown at my head from one had to the other. She gave me a wicked grin. "You called in your bargain? I thought you were going to let her live in peace and just mourn her loss for the rest of your life."

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Feyre had gone to her room and wouldn't overhear us before I sank down into the chair across from her and sighed. "She was begging for help. And she needs it. I thought that if I left her alone, she'd be happy, Mor, but she's not."

"Have they gotten better for you?" Mor asked, leaning forward to pass me a glass of wine she'd summoned.

"Yes," I said and it was mostly the truth. I didn't elaborate further and Mor didn't push me.

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked, setting the shoe down on the table beside her.

I stared at the shoe. It didn't even have a real sole, but it had hurt like hell when it hit the back of my head. Now, it looked innocent and terribly incongruous to the rest of its surrounding now that it had been taken out of the Spring Court. If Feyre was strong enough to wield that shoe like a weapon, I wondered what else she could do.

"Now," I said, looking back to Mor, "we convince her to help us stop the war."

* * *

 _ **Month II**_

I showed an admirable amount of patience in that I waited until midmorning before I winnowed into the Spring Court a month later. Admirable because I hadn't gone to check on her in person over the last month, even though I wanted to desperately. Admirable because I hadn't sent Mor or Azriel to look in on her and make sure she was still alive. Admirable because I hadn't winnowed in when that heart-stopping spike of pure terror had shot through the bond earlier in the month, followed by a glimpse of what looked like blood splattered on a wall, and then faded back into nothing. Admirable because I was half afraid that I'd arrive and find Feyre on the brink of death, that was how quiet she'd been this past month.

I didn't bother winnowing into the courtyard, or even to the front door. I knew where the estate's living quarters were. It was nothing to break through his wards, his pathetic attempts to keep her safe. I barely felt the twinge as my own magic allowed me to slip right through them. I appeared in the middle of a hallway, leaning against a wall across from where two sentries were posted in front of a door.

"Good morning." I did my best imitation of Mor's most chirpy voice. It may have come out less inviting and enthusiastic than she would have done. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

One of them shouted in surprise while the other fumbled for his sword. Before he had a chance to draw it, Tamlin was there. He'd winnowed from wherever he'd been to directly in front of the door, claws out and teeth bared. When he saw who the threat was, he didn't relax his fighting stance.

"How did you get in here?" he snarled. He turned to the sentries. "Go check the wards and the perimeter. Now!"

The guards were only too happy to comply, scurrying off like frightened mice down the hall and away from me.

"Is this Feyre's room then?" I asked, ignoring his question. "I thought I smelled her."

His growl in response shook the walls. "Get out."

"Not until I have what I came for," I said, keeping my voice low and calm in the face of his rage.

It had no effect on his temper. "I'll say it one last time-"

"And what will you do after that, Tamlin? Lock me up? Torture me? Kill me? I'd like to see you try." I took a step closer to him and a slow, wicked smile spread itself across my lips. "I taught you everything you know about fighting, Tamlin, but don't think for one second that I showed you everything _I_ know."

I thought he might try to anyway, but the door behind him swung open and we both froze. Feyre stood on the threshold wearing nothing but a blanket. The smile died on my lips as I took her in. She was thin, even more so than she'd been last month, and the blanket wrapped around her did nothing to hide it.

"Feyre," I thought I'd be relieved to see her after a month of agonizing silence, but what I saw was horrifying. Dark purple ringed her empty eyes and her loose hair hung lank and tangled around her. I could see every bone in her neck and shoulders above where she'd wrapped the blanket around her. I could even see the bumps and ridges of her sternum and the map of blue veins beneath her nearly translucent skin. Icy cold rage wrapped itself around me and it took a great effort to keep the shadows at bay as I stared at her. "Are you running low on food here?"

"What?" Tamlin snapped.

It took all of my willpower to resist snapping his damned neck right there. Instead, I reached out for her, not caring that she was only wearing a blanket, not caring that she reeked of sex and Tamlin's scent, not caring about anything except getting her out of her. "Let's go."

Tamlin stepped between us, his teeth still bared, but the claws gone. "Get out," he snarled again, pointing towards the stairs behind him. Behind him, Feyre flinched in response to his display of temper. "She'll come to you when she's ready."

I felt Feyre's eyes on me, the weight of her gaze as she watched to see what I would do next. I put on an expression I'd borrowed from Amren more than three centuries ago, gloriously bored and slightly annoyed and reached out to brush a fleck of dust off of his sleeve. I felt the glimmer of Feyre's admiration, heard her, finally, as she thought about how she would have responded to Tamlin's teeth being inches from her throat. Her shields were down and I took a quick glance through her memories before I spoke.

"No, you wouldn't have," I said in response to her thoughts. "As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin's teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face."

"Shut your mouth," Tamlin said, moving so that I couldn't see Feyre past his wide shoulders. "And get out."

I conceded a step so that I could see her behind him again. She was so painfully thin, so dejected. I put my hands in my pockets to hide how they clenched into fists. "You really should have your wards inspected. Cauldron knows what other sort of riffraff might stroll in here as easily as I did." I caught her eye over his shoulder. "Put some clothes on."

She finally gave me a little snarl of her own and disappeared back into her room, Tamlin hot on her heels. He slammed the door behind him hard enough to knock a painting off the wall. I leaned against the wall opposite her door again and focused on calming myself down. I had been prepared for a lot of things today, but seeing her so pale, so thin, so _empty,_ had not been one of them. Where the hell was Lucian? Tamlin was a Cauldron-damned idiot, but Lucian had braved far worse things than Tamlin's wrath for Feyre's sake Under the Mountain. Why hadn't he done anything, said something?

I felt her beyond the closed door. She was still barely there, but proximity strengthened the bond between us. I felt more than heard her speak, felt the tiny glimmer of hope as she asked him about the war. Felt her desire to be a part of something bigger than herself. Felt that desire and hope flicker out and die as Tamlin's voice rumbled from behind the door, his words low and fast. Felt her resignation as she leaned against him and breathed in his scent. I coughed loudly and, to my surprise, she walked out the door a moment later.

She wore the same turquoise and gold clothes she'd left in last month and they were shockingly loose on her. The pants hung low on her hips, revealing more of her stomach than it was meant to and the shirt gaped over her stomach and chest where it had laid flat against her skin last month. She caught me looking at her and I saw her eyes narrow, like they did when she was about to snap something insulting at me. But a moment later the spark in her eyes died.

I reached for her, newly desperate to get her out of this Mother forsaken place, only to have Tamlin shove my hand away.

"You end her bargain right here, right now, and I'll give you anything you want. Anything."

It was the smartest thing he'd said to me in years, possibly decades. And the stupidest. An offer like that would allow me enslave his people or take over his lands. Feyre was my mate, I was certain of it, but even that would not keep me from protecting my people to the best of my ability, from throwing out bargains so foolishly.

"Are you out of your mind?" Feyre snapped, and, if possible, she went even paler than she'd been before. But Tamlin didn't take his eyes off of me.

"I already have everything I want," I said, stepping around Tamlin and taking Feyre's hand. It was time to leave.

Her fingers felt brittle and ice cold in mine and her mind didn't react to being winnowed with so much as a gasp, unlike the first time when she'd shrieked and shook as we traveled back to the Night Court.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked before we'd even fully materialized.

"Why don't you just look inside my head?" she asked, her voice dull and tired. She let go of my hand and moved away from me, her shoulders stooped and her face blank.

"Where the fun in that?" I asked with a wink, trying to get her ire up, to elicit _something_. She just looked at me with those dull, sad eyes. I tried again. "No shoe throwing this time?"

She held my gaze for a long moment, and then turned towards the stairs that led to her room. No sneers, no smiles, not even a snarl. It was like talking to a post. An incredibly skinny post.

"Eat breakfast with me," I said, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. I couldn't let her go, not like this. Not without some sort of reaction.

She turned back to me, "Don't you have other things to deal with?"

I did. I had been useless with worry over her for most of the month, even if no one besides Amren realized it. I shrugged, "Of course I do. I have so many things to deal with that I'm sometimes tempted to unleash my power across the world and wipe the board clean, just to buy me some damned peace." A tiny glimmer of a reaction to that flickered in her eyes-fear and a touch of awe. I gave her a grin and bowed exaggeratedly, hoping to get something more from her, even if it was just a little. "But I'll always make time for you."

The words weren't a lie. Even if I wasn't her mate and didn't love her so much that it could make my chest ache, I owed her everything. I knew that whatever she asked of me, I would do and gladly. I wondered if she knew realized it though.

She didn't react, just gestured to the alcove where we had dined the last time she was here. I lead the way, noticing how she walked beside me instead of ten paces behind me as she had last month. It wasn't that she wasn't afraid of me anymore, it was that she simply didn't care. She didn't say another word as we walked. There was something I wanted, _needed,_ to know.

"I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond." I began, working to keep my voice even and light. "Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?"

I saw the memories flash through her mind, saw the explosion of paint and wood, saw Tamlin's enraged face, and the protective bubble she'd instinctively made around herself. But she only said, "It was nothing."

I didn't know what pissed me off more, her defensive lie, because it had sure as hell been _something_ or the fact that it had happened in the first place. If she hadn't had those powers, if her instincts hadn't been able to protect her...He could have hurt her, killed her.

She glanced in my direction and the rage must've been apparent enough on my face because she said, "If you know, why even ask about it?"

The words poured out of me. "Because these days, all I hear through that bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you." I took a deep breath, tried to steady my rage and fear and worry. "And yet I don't. Sometimes I'll tug on the bond only to make sure you're still alive." I wondered if she knew how often I did it, if she'd felt me at all over the last month. "And then one day, I'm in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him-and then nothing. Back to silence." It had been the worst moment I'd experienced since I'd left the Court Under the Mountain. "I'd like to know what caused such a disruption."

She piled food onto her plate and, without looking at me, said "It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern."

 _She_ was my concern, every single thing that happened to her, that came out of her mouth, every breath felt like it was tied to my own. "Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?"

She didn't look up from her plate. "Get out of my head."

"Make me. Push me out." I wasn't angry, not with her. But I was desperate for some sort of a reaction. "You dropped your shield this morning-anyone could have walked right in."

She looked up at me finally and held my gaze for a long, tense moment, like she was contemplating rising to the challenge. And then instead asked, "Where's Mor?"

I nearly shot out of my seat and upended the table. I just wanted something, anything. I felt her bracing herself across the table and, just like that, the fire was gone. "Away. She has duties to attend to."

She lowered her attention back to her food and began to eat, shoveling food into her mouth like she was actually as starved as she looked. I let her eat in silence for a while before asking, "Is the wedding on hold then?"

She spoke around a mouthful of eggs, still not looking up, "Yes."

"I expected an answer more along the lines of, 'Don't ask stupid questions you already know the answer to," or my timeless favorite, 'Go to hell,' " I said. Still, she kept her eyes on the food in front of her, reaching out to grab a tartlet from the platter in front of her.

I fought to keep my emotions in check. I didn't know who I was more angry with, myself for returning her to that damned place after I saw how badly she looked last month, or Tamlin for allowing this to happen to her and not helping her at all.

"Did you give my offer any thought?" I asked, trying a different tactic to see if it'd do something, anything.

She didn't say anything for a long time, just kept stuffing her mouth with food. I let myself hope that she'd say yes, even though I expected that she would not. Maybe if she felt like she had a purpose and a place, she could start to recover. I knew that it was unlikely that Tamlin would allow her to help with anything, much less the planning of a war, especially after hearing the conversation that had occured between them earlier. But even if all she did was work while she was here, it would something. Besides, if she was as strong as I suspected she was, I needed her. Prythian needed her.

Finally, once her plate was clean and she was piling more sliced pieces of fruit onto it, she said, "I'm not going to work with you."

I had suspected as much, I reminded myself. "And why, Feyre, are you refusing me?"

She still wouldn't look at me when she spoke. "I'm not going to be a part of this war you think is coming. You say I should be a weapon, not a pawn-they seem like the same to me. The only difference is who's wielding it."

"I want your help, not to manipulate you." The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but the emotion on my behalf finally made her lift her head.

"You want my help because it'll piss off Tamlin."

That...was to be expected. I'd said and done a lot Under the Mountain to get her to believe the role I had to play. I should have known that she'd see things that way, given her experiences.

"Fine," I didn't like it, but I could live with that. For now anyway. "I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help."

I waited for her to ask me why, for her curiosity to get the better of her. I knew she had it in her. But she didn't say a word, just looked at me.

"I was a prisoner in her court for nearly fifty years," I began, struggling to keep my voice level and quiet. I hadn't talked about what happened Under the Mountain with anyone since I'd come back, not really. "I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it." I was on the verge of begging now and I didn't care. There was too much at stake. "Please-help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian."

For the barest moment, I felt her responding to my words, felt the ache that bloomed in response to it, the recognition she felt as my words mirrored what she felt in her own heart. And then I felt the veil drop back into place.

She turned her attention back to the plate in front of her and I didn't say another word to her. I tried to eat, but the food tasted like sawdust. When she was finished, she stood and went to her room. She didn't emerge again.

* * *

 _ **Month III**_

My day had gone remarkably well.

Mor and I had spent most of the week dealing with some slight unrest in the Court of Nightmares, but enough had been resolved that I felt comfortable leaving the rest in her capable hands. We were having a well deserved and quite tasty lunch before I went back to Velaris. I had spent too long away from my city and was happy at the thought of returning to it. A good day indeed.

Until a wave of fear and panic and rage so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet came through the bond. I froze in place, stopping mid sentence as I tried to determine what was wrong. Was she having a nightmare? It was late in the afternoon. She'd never startled me with a nightmare in the afternoon before.

A flood of claustrophobia came through the bond. I could barely breathe. _Trapped._ The word repeated over and over in my head. I was Under the Mountain again. I was alone and afraid and more helpless than I'd ever been and I couldn't breathe. The flood of emotion was overwhelming and all consuming and I was going to die here…

"Rhysand!"

Mor's voice cut through the terror like a blade and I was back in my own body again. The winter sun was streaming through the windows. Outside, I could hear the wind whistling across mountaintops and tiny birds chirping in the trees. I'd dropped to my knees and she was next to me on the ground, her eyes steady as they peered into mine. I was safe. I was on top of the mountain, Mor at my side. I was safe.

But Feyre wasn't.

I got to my feet, in control of my body and my thoughts once again. I could still feel her incapacitating fear through the bond, but I could act. She was trapped and alone and afraid, but I wouldn't let her stay that way.

"Feyre's in trouble," I said and the words pressed down on me, threatening to overwhelm me again. "We need to get to the Spring Court."

Mor nodded solemnly, her eyes sober, the conversation we'd been having about trade routes forgotten. She grabbed my hand and I winnowed us directly to the heart of Spring Court. By habit, we materialized at the giant oak tree in the courtyard and I could hear her screaming from there. Servants and sentries were pouring out of the house, fleeing so quickly they were tripping over themselves, much as they had done when I'd crashed the wedding. It took me all of two seconds to lunge for the house, but Mor stood in my way, her hands on my shoulders, holding me back with all her strength.

"Rhys, you can't," she said through gritted teeth as I pushed against her. "Be smart."

She was right. We didn't know the threat. My actions could end up hurting her further if I just burst in there. I made myself be calm, but it was an effort with Feyre's screams echoing in my ears and her terror squeezing itself ever more tightly around my heart. When she was sure I wouldn't bolt, Mor let me go and we both turned to survey the manor. It was a strange scene, the flowers in the garden blooming and bright, a gentle spring breeze blowing their scent across bright green fields, and then Feyre's screams filling the air as the Spring Court's fey fled. In addition to the normal wards, it glistened with a sheen of magic that coated every door frame and window. _Tamlin_ had done this to her. I couldn't sense his presence anywhere on the estate. The miserable bastard had locked her in the house and left.

"It's Tamlin's magic," Mor said, confirming what I saw. Her voice was tight. "You can't go get her without starting a war."

She was right, of course. The bargain was one thing, but it had only been a week since I'd returned Feyre. To take her now, even if it was for her protection, would be an act of war. And while I'd told Cassian and Azriel to prepare for a war, I didn't want to start one if I could help it, even for Feyre's sake.

"Can you take the shield down?" Mor asked, stalking towards the house with a predatory grace. I understood her intention immediately, and with a flick of my fingers, night ensconced the house. When it cleared away a moment later, all of Tamlin's shields and wards were gone with it.

"Meet me in the Summer Court," was all she said to me before she sprinted inside, a golden blur.

I knew she'd have to take the guards out on her own and then take Feyre across another border before we could bring her home. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mor would be able to do it easily. She was incredibly strong and there had been a righteous fire in her eyes that would terrify even the most hardened soldier. She would not leave without Feyre.

I felt it, the desperate pang of fear that pierced through the rest when Mor's hands gripped Feyre's shoulders. I nearly was sick when I heard the thought in my mind. _Amarantha_. And then a moment later, the calm as she realized she was being carried by Mor.

I knew it, and yet I stayed rooted in place until I saw Mor emerge from the house. They were both wrapped in darkness and shadows, only the brightness of the sun glinting off of Mor's gold hair visible as she carried Feyre out of that damned house. She caught my eye from across the courtyard and nodded before she took off running.

I winnowed to the Summer Court to wait for them. I knew where Mor would go. There were only a few places along the border that wouldn't be guarded. I shuddered at the thought of Feyre underground for even the briefest of moments, but knew she was as safe as she could possibly be with Mor. Mor was strong and powerful and she had been a prisoner once. She would not allow Feyre to become one again.

I paced outside the cave's Summer Court entrance, felt the stab of fear as Mor entered the cave with Feyre, and then…

And then they were in front of me.

Well, the darkness was in front of me. It was Feyre's fear made manifest, I realized. I had woken up wrapped in that same darkness enough times in these past months to recognize it for what it was. And Feyre had it wrapped around her like a blanket. I growled and the darkness that engulfed her disappeared.

"I did everything by the book," Mor said as she approached me. Her hair was a windswept tangle and her clothes were burnt in places and frozen in others, as were Feyre's. I pulled Feyre out of Mor's arms and cradled her close. Her fear was still a living thing that threatened to break her into a thousand pieces. She was so thin that I had to gentle my hold on her body for fear that I'd crush her. She looked up at me without seeing me, her eyes empty and I felt her gasping for breath, like her lungs were being crushed.

"Then we're done here," I said and we winnowed back to the Night Court.

I wrapped Feyre in every bit of comfort that the night could provide. I poured all the love I felt for her into the starlight skating across her skin, the soft evening breeze weaving in her hair, the moonbeams caressing her cheeks, and the warmth and contentment of the last moments of consciousness before sleep. She was unconscious by the time we arrived at my palace above the Court of Nightmares. I brought her to one of the little alcoves that overlooked the mountains and the sky that I knew she favored and laid her on a couch there. Mor followed us silently.

"What happened?" I asked.

Mor told me in quick, soft words about finding her in the center of the foyer, ensconced in a cloud of darkness so bleak and empty that there was just a black hole where she lay on the ground. Only a few of the sentries and one serving woman had remained. Mor had taken the sentries out quickly and easily, but the servant had stood between Mor and Feyre, willing to die before she let anyone touch her mistress.

"I told her I was there to help and she was surprisingly pliant after that," Mor said with a shake of her head. "She may be the only person in the Spring Court who retains an iota of my respect."

"Tell Azriel to watch the Spring Court. I want to know the instant Tamlin returns and what he does when he finds out she's gone." I told Mor without taking my eyes off of Feyre's face. "Tell Cassian to have all his sentries on high alert until I give the order to stand down. And have Amren check all the wards. Twice." I brushed a lock of hair off of Feyre's cheek and let my hand linger there for a moment. "Once she wakes, we'll meet and discuss how to move forward. If anyone has word of any kind of threat, I want to know immediately."

"Anything else?" Mor's voice was crisp and calm and I finally tore my gaze away from Feyre's face long enough to look Mor in the eye.

"Thank you," I breathed, my chest suddenly tight. "Thank you for saving her."

She smiled down at me, her eyes bright with emotion. "Of course," she said lightly, leaning down to let a hand trail along Feyre's pale cheek. "I would have done it regardless." I knew she was speaking the truth, not because Feyre was my mate, or because she'd saved Prythian, but because Mor understood what it was like to be trapped in your own home. She gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and then she was gone.

I made Feyre as comfortable as possible, summoned pillows and blankets and then thought about how even the weight of blankets on top of me still could make me feel smothered after all these months and sent them back. I smoothed the mess of spring green chiffon that made up her skirts so that her legs weren't wound up in them and tried to untangle her long hair from around her neck and shoulders.

Her collarbones jutted out too far, the planes of her cheekbones sharp enough to slice through the air, her eyes sunk back into her head and ringed with dark purple. Her hair was lank and had lost its golden sheen. And I couldn't get the sight of her blank, empty eyes staring unseeingly up at me out of my mind. I lightly brushed a finger along the dark bruises beneath her eyes and shuddered. She had nearly been a ghost a week ago, but this...How could seven days wreck such changes on her?

I shouldn't have let her go back. I had watched her waste away month to month...I shouldn't have taken her back last. It would have been better to risk war and her wrath than to allow her to slowly kill herself like this.

How could he have done it? He loved her. I had seen it Under the Mountain and in the days since. He was willing to kill for her. Had killed for her. He'd watched her _die_ and yet, he had allowed her to destroy herself like this and had done _nothing_ to stop it.

I gritted my teeth and looked out towards the mountains. The sun was setting. Tamlin might be returning to the manor soon, could be discovering that she was gone even now. If he chose to ignore the laws and declare war, I would not regret it. Saving her was worth it. Even if she woke up and demanded to be returned to him, it was worth it to know that she was out of that house for now.

I sank into one of the armchairs near her couch and stared out at the stars as they began to appear one by one while the sun sank further behind the mountains. There was a part of me that was afraid she'd wake up and hate me for taking her away, even after being locked up like a prisoner in her own home. And an even bigger part of me was afraid of the fact that I could deny her nothing. If she woke and wanted to go back to Tamlin, I would take her back. It would kill me to do it, but I would. This time, I would not keep my opinions regarding her wellbeing to myself though. I would beat it into Tamlin's head. I beat it into all of them if I had to.

I brooded like that for most of the night, counting her breaths, watching the stars. I retreated so far into my thoughts that I didn't even notice how the stars began to fade as the sun rose until I heard her swallow behind me.

She was awake, and looked even more frail and broken in wakefulness than she had asleep. Her eyes were dull, but at least she didn't look angry at me.

"What happened?" she asked and I heard her thoughts, the unspoken question forming in her mind.

"You were screaming," I didn't like remembering the sounds of her screams and how I'd been unable to do anything to save her. Again. "You also managed to scare the shit out of every servant and sentry in Tamlin's manor when you wrapped yourself in darkness and they couldn't see you."

I didn't think it was possible, but she went even paler. "Did I hurt any-"

"No," I said immediately, cutting her off. The relief on her face made my heart ache for her. "Whatever you did, it was contained to you."

"You weren't-"

I knew where she was going with this one. "By law and protocol, things would have become very complicated and very messy if I had been the one to walk into that house and take you. Smashing the shield was fine, but Mor had to go in on her own two feet, render the sentries unconscious through her own power, and carry you over the border to another court before I could bring you here. Or else Tamlin would have free rein to march his forces into my lands to reclaim you." I didn't mention that he still might regardless of the law. "And as I have no interest in an internal war, we had to do everything by the book."

She absorbed this information quietly, and then, "When I go back…" she trailed off and looked away for a moment.

I tried to be as diplomatic as I could. Tried not to let how much it would kill me to send her back show on my face. "As your presence here isn't part of our monthly requirement, you are under no obligation to go back." I nearly didn't add the last bit, and the words cost me. "Unless you wish to."

She was quiet for a long time. Quiet and still and pale. I wanted to reach out across the bond and offer her whatever small strength or peace I could, but didn't want to invade her privacy.

At last, she finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "He locked me in that house."

My wings itched along my back, power fueled by rage coursing through my veins. "I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up-for once.

She looked me in the eye, my sweet, sad, brave girl and said "I have nowhere else to go."

"Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, but I meant every single one.

"I-I need to go back at some point."

Of course she'd feel that way, even if she owed them nothing. But I wouldn't keep her here against her will. Couldn't do that to her. "Say the word, and it's done."

I watched those words sink in, watched her contemplate what going back would mean. A shadow crossed her face and I changed the subject, if only to chase the shadow away. "I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing...All of it is yours."

She frowned and I rushed to amend the words. "Work for me. I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be."

She slowly took in the words and then looked out towards the mountains, her contemplation and concern on her face. And then, after a few moments, resolve tightened her features. "I'm not going back." She swallowed, but her voice came out rough. "Not-not until I figure things out."

Feyre retreated back into her thoughts and this time, I could hear bits and pieces of them. So much hurt and anger and confusion and fear. Enough to make me ache. She was so pale, sitting there in the weak warmth of the dawn, her tattered green dress making her seem even paler, even more frail.

I summoned a mug of tea for her. Peppermint, licorice and chamomile, the kind of tea my mother used to make for me and my sister when we small. She'd always said that tea made any situation better. "Drink it."

She accepted the mug and took a long sip. I turned my face back towards the mountains and let her have a some time to collect herself, to allow the tea to comfort her. I monitored every sip, every exhalation and was surprised when she broke the silence between us.

"The darkness-is that...part of the power you gave me."

I thought of the darkness that had covered her, the fear made manifest that had consumed her whole. It was precisely like the kind that plagued me during nightmares. But that would be too much to tell her right now. "One would assume so."

She finished off her tea. "No wings?"

I considered this for a moment. "If you inherited some of Tamlin's shape-shifting, perhaps you can make wings of your own."

And then the flood of questions came. "And the other High Lords? Ice-that's Winter. That shield I once made of hardened wind-who did that come from? What might the others have given me? Is-is winnowing tied to any of you in particular?"

I thought about it. High Lords did not like to flaunt their unique powers. I didn't like to think about how some of them would react if they knew she possessed some of their power. "Wind? The Day Court, likely. And winnowing-it's not confined to any court. It's wholly dependent on your own reserve of power-and training. As for the gifts you got from everyone else...That's for your to find out, I suppose."

"I should have know your goodwill would wear off after a minute."

I chuckled. It was good to hear an emotion in her voice, even if it was annoyance. I rose from my chair and stretched. All my tension and worry were knotted in my shoulders and down my back and I ached as though I had spent the day before training with the Illyrians. Speaking of which, I needed to tell Cassian, Azriel and Amren what Mor and I had done yesterday, and see if Tamlin was planning on going to go to war. Besides, she seemed like she needed space. "Rest a day or two, Feyre. Then take on the task of figuring out everything else. I have business in another part of my lands; I'll be back by the end of the week."

She didn't respond and I took that as my cue to leave her. I was almost out of the alcove when she took a deep breath and blurted "Take me with you."

I stopped mid-stride and turned to face her. "You should rest."

"I've rested enough," she said as she got to her feet. For a moment, I thought she'd faint, but then two spots of color bloomed on her pale cheeks and she steadied herself as she said "Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing-take me a long. I'll stay out of trouble. Just...Please."

I looked at her, taking in the desperation in her eyes, the way her shoulders were already slumped, as if she expected me to say no. My love, my mate. I was certain of it. I couldn't leave her behind. But I also couldn't bring her with me without making sure she understood how important the safety of Velaris was.

I closed the distance between us and looked her in the eye. "If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die-my people will die. So if you come, you will have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you cannot tell anyone there what you see, and who you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and-your friends, then stay here."

She debated, but I knew there was no choice for her. Knew that my city was calling to her, singing to her blood, even as she made her decision. "Take me with you. I won't tell anyone what I see. Even-them."

I looked at her, saw the edge of desperation, the panic at the thought of being left alone, saw the hope and the promise in her eyes. I couldn't wait to introduce her to the rest of my Inner Circle. "We leave in ten minutes. If you want to freshen up, go ahead."

She flushed slightly, but didn't move from her spot. "Where are we going?"

I couldn't keep the grin off of my face. She would finally get to see my city. "To Velaris-the City of Starlight."


	2. Her Nightmare

I flew around Velaris for hours after I left Feyre at the townhouse. It had been a damned long day and a longer night before it, and I felt raw around the edges, but being back in Velaris was a balm. She was here. Feyre was here. I couldn't quite believe it. She was out of the damned Spring Court of her own volition and she was _here_. In Velaris. She'd seen my city and finally started to understand what I'd had to protect Under the Mountain, why I'd done all the horrible things I had. She'd grabbed my wrist and looked up at me without seeing a monster lurking behind my pretty eyes.

And she'd met my family and she'd liked them. Even though I had promised them all centuries ago that I would stay out of their heads, I could see on their faces plain as day that they liked her, even Amren. She had gone into that dinner with nervousness radiating off of her in waves, but it had slowly dissipated as the evening went on. And after seeing her with them, after seeing everyone I loved together in the same room...It was impossible for me to imagine them without her. She was a piece we hadn't known we'd been missing, but we were better with her, pale and sickly as she was.

I sent a nudge down the bond between us, the bond that had allowed her past my mental shields earlier, just to see if she'd respond and found only the calm emptiness of her sleep at the end of it. And the peace and quiet of her deep, deep sleep calmed something in me, reminded me that I too should get some rest.

My city glittered beneath me , safe and happy and so full of life, as I flew back to the townhouse. It had been my one source of relief since my return from Under the Mountain, my singular joy during those months while I tried in vain to let Feyre go. I'd fly till the point of exhaustion as often as I could, but even that couldn't drive away the nightmares for long. But as least I afforded me a couple of hours of sleep.

As I landed on the roof of the townhouse, exhaustion hit me When was the last time I'd slept? Two nights ago? Three? I could go for four before my attitude got bad enough for one of my friends to call me out on it. I made my way back to the townhouse. It wouldn't be a good idea meet the Bone Carver without some rest beforehand.

But I would sleep better now that I knew that Feyre was safe. It had been a source of agony for the last six months, seeing her waste away before my eyes and unable to do anything to stop it. I prayed to the Mother that she would be able to begin healing now that she was here. After all, she hadn't outright turned down Cassian's offer to train her as she'd done to me. And she'd had a spark in her eyes more than once tonight, glimmers of the woman i loved shining through the cracks in the case of stone she'd put around herself. In time, things could get better.

Feyre's scent hit me as soon as I walked through the door, spicy and floral at the same time. My blood roared to life in my veins, as if just the few hours I had spent away from her had been a lifetime. Immediately, I knew that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. Her scent alone was eough to set me aflame. Living under the same, small roof with her was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.

I didn't care though. I didn't care that my heart raced and my blood pulsed whenever she was near. I didn't care that when I'd held her in my arms as I'd flown her to the House of Wind earlier was possibly the most glorious moment of my existence. I didn't care that, according to what Amren had said this morning, I could make all my troubles go away by simply claiming Feyre as my mate. I didn't care.

She was so broken and had been through so much and I could feel the steady tattoo of _Traitor. Traitor. Traitor._ beating through her mind, her heart, every moment she'd spent in Velaris. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel any sort of obligation to me, to us. Especially while she was still in love with Tamlin. For now, her being here was a big enough step for me. Knowing that she was safe, that she could have a chance to heal...If that's all that ever came of this, it would be enough for me.

I shucked off my fine clothes, worn because Nuala had slipped in before dinner to tell me what Feyre was wearing, and slipped into soft, comfortable pants. I summoned the pile of paperwork I'd been ignoring for the last week from my desk in the study and settled down in my favorite armchair to finally get some work done.

Amarantha's face flashed across my mind's eye and I was suddenly laying naked on that hideous red marble floor, a knife dragging across my skin. _Lying, traitorous human with your filthy lying heart,_ her voice hissed inside my head. It took me only a moment to realize that it was one of Feyre's dreams and not reality. I jerked my mind back into my body quickly, the report I'd fallen asleep reading flying from my hands and scattering across the floor as I winnowed myself directly into Feyre's bedroom.

It was full of smoke and darkness so thick I could barely see my hand in front of my face. It took more effort than I'd anticipated, but I willed the darkness to vanish and, after a moment, it did. Her bed was burning, _she_ was burning, her fingers ending in living flames as they tore at her sheets, catching fire to the material and the mattress beneath. Through the bond, I could still feel her dream, the terror and loneliness and I pulled on the bond with every ounce of will I possessed as I ran to her bed.

 _Feyre!_ I shouted down that beacon of light between us, swearing when I hit the thick walls of adamant that surrounded her mind. _Feyre, wake up! Wake up! Wake up!_ She was thrashing and I was afraid she'd burn herself on her own flames. _Wake up! Feyre please._ I was still banging against that mental shield as I grabbed her shoulders and sent out waves of darkness to squelch the flames before they could touch her, wrapped the darkness gently around her hands so that she couldn't burn anything else.

 _I'm going to make eternity a hell for you_.

The words hissed through my mind and I nearly dropped my hold on Feyre's shoulders. They were words Amarantha had said to me many times Under the Mountain. She'd been so sure that she would win, so smug, so certain… Feyre was screaming in my arms now, and I felt the sharp burst of pain from her dream as she pushed against my hands, thrashing and kicking and screaming, screaming, screaming.

I would not let Amarantha win. I would not let that bitch have my mate. I channeled all my power, every bit of the ancient gifts I'd been blessed with into my voice as I tightened my hands on her arms and spoke her name.

"FEYRE." She went still beneath me, her screams dying on her lips and her flaming fingers dwindling to embers. "Open your eyes."

She did, her grey eyes glittering in the moonlight that was once again seeping through her window. There was residual terror lurking about the edges, but she was awake, instantly calmed by the command of a High Lord.

"It was a dream," I breathed, my voice sounding less like the primal High Lord and more like myself. I looked for any signs that she'd burnt herself, but what I could see of her pale, smooth skin was unmarred. Her nightclothes clung damply to her shaking shoulders and strands of hair were plastered to her sweat soaked face, but she was back in reality with me. "A dream."

She took in her surroundings, first the bedroom, the glittering city beyond her open windows, and then finally her tattered bed. Carefully, as if she were in a trance, she shifted in my grip and lifted a hand, the ends of her fingers still glowing red orange. She stared at it with wide, horrified eyes for a long moment before pushing out of my grip entirely and frantically pitching towards the bathing room.

I followed her into the large bathing room and sank to my knees behind her as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. I had seen her doing this so many times through the bond and it had killed me that I couldn't be there to comfort her, that no one had come to check on her, not even once, even though she got sick every single night. Maybe she wanted it that way, maybe she couldn't stand having someone else be witness to her violent sickness.

But even if she hadn't wanted it, I had still been witness to her every moment of illness since she'd freed us from Under the Mountain. And I had woken up from nightmares that left me sick to my stomach often enough to want someone to comfort me.

"Breathe," I said as I pulled her damp hair out of her face and wrapped the silky strands around one wrist. "Imagine them winking out like candles," I said, repeating advice I'd been given when my powers first became manifest and had been uncontrollable and all over the place. "One by one."

Instead of taking my advice, she threw up again, fire and ash joining the bile in the toilet bowl and the embers disappeared, fading back into the ends of her fingers.

"Well, that's one way to do it."

She stilled and slowly lifted her head to look at her fingers, nearly as pale as the porcelain they rested on. I felt the tumultuous roll of power and fear inside her begin to ebb away. She felt drained, emotionally and physically, but her stomach wasn't done with her yet because she started heaving again.

"I have this dream," I said softly as I carded her hair away from her face and wrapped it more firmly behind her head. "Where it's not me stuck under her, but Cassian or Azriel. And she's pinned their wings to the bed with spikes, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." I closed my eyes against the memory and tried not to cringe. I opened my eyes and stared at the back of Feyre's head, at the gold brown strands of hair wrapped around my hand and force myself to finish "She's commanded me to watch, and I have no choice but to see how I failed them."

In front of me, Feyre spat into the toilet and flushed, but didn't move beyond that. I kept staring at the back of her head until she turned to look over her shoulder at me.

"You never failed them," she said, her voice raw.

My heart clenched at the words. Maybe I hadn't failed them outright. They had remained safe and unscathed in my city, but still…"I did...horrible things to ensure that."

Horrible didn't begin to cover everything I'd done. Horrible was too weak a word for the torture and beatings and blood I'd shed in Amarantha's name. Horrible would never come close to what I'd done.

"So did I," Feyre said, her voice soft. Face flashed across the bond. Faces I recognized from her constant nightmares about them. She nearly pulled her hair out of my hand with how quickly she turned back to the toilet to throw up even more of her dinner.

I didn't realize I'd done it until my hand was making it's way down her back. It was all I'd wanted to be able to do for weeks, to reach out and give her so sort of small comfort while she battled those demons. What I was doing now was something my mother had done for my sister and I when we were small and sick, holding back our hair and rubbing our backs until we were done. The material of her nightshirt was thick and soft, but even so, beneath it I could feel the knobs of her spine, could see the shape of her ribs. Rage bubbled just beneath the surface. So thin she was so thin and they hadn't done anything, _I_ hadn't done anything. I pushed down the guilt and anger and focused my attention back on her. Feyre had relaxed under my touch, even as she continued throwing up. Once she stopped heaving, she leaned back and without looking at me, whispered, "The flames?"

"Autumn Court," I said simply, recalling the few times I'd seen Beron actually defend himself instead of deferring to one of his sons or courtiers.

She didn't reply and I didn't bother to explain any further. We sat there on the floor in silence for a long time, one of my hands still tangled in her hair, the other stroking her back, until she laid her head against the edge of the bathtub and fell asleep.

I didn't try to wake her. Instead, I carefully pulled her into my arms, moving achingly slowly so as not to wake her and made my way back to her bed. I summoned new sheets and blankets for her bed and was about to lay her down, but she nuzzled her face against my chest and mumbled incoherently into my skin. I froze. It wasn't the first time she'd touched me voluntarily, but it was the kind of intimacy that until last night, I hadn't even been able to let myself dream about.

I don't know how long I stood there with her in my arms. The moonlight shifted across the floor and moved up the wall and still I stood there, not daring to move a muscle while she had her face nuzzled into my neck. Eventually, she moved again and brought me back to myself. She'd be furious if she woke to find me standing next to her bed with her in my arms. I laid her down as carefully and pulled the blankets up around her chin, tucking them tightly around her body to guard against the night air, before I brushed a kiss across her forehead and left to try to get some sleep before she woke.


	3. No One's Pet

I loved the way Feyre felt when she was in my head, loved the way her presence tinged everything in my mind with a pale white glow, like my thoughts were being kissed by starlight. Only two daemati had ever found themselves past my mental shields, back when I was much younger and much stupider and their presence had been an oily, uncomfortable thing that left a bad taste in my mouth. Letting Feyre in was like allowing a fresh evening breeze off the Sidra to caress my skin, comfortable and familiar and _right_.

Even so, I did not like letting that brilliant white light of hers gild the edges of the bloody and gruesome memory I allowed her to relive with me. I could feel her every reaction to the memory through the bond, every twist of her stomach and roil of anger and cringe of horror and I hated that she had to see this side of us. Not just me, Mother knew she'd seen this side of me on more than one occasion, but of Azriel, who had never been anything but kind to her, who she'd never looked at as anything but a friend. And yet, I felt no fear from her when I released her from the memory and gently pushed her back into her body again.

She blinked as her mind found its way back and then looked up at me with narrowed eyes. "What situation in the Spring Court?"

Her mental shields were still down and I could sense her worry, that same nagging fear that she'd ruined everything, that she'd brought war to my borders by choosing to leave. I did my best to assuage that fear without lying to her. "None. As of right now." She still looked uncertain and I could still feel the steady beat of _traitor, traitor, traitor_ pulsing at the back of her mind. "But you know how far Tamlin can be driven to...protect what he thinks is his."

It was just a quick flash, barely enough to constitute a memory, but the explosion of blood red paint splattered across a destroyed wall flashed through her mind and then disappeared just as quickly. They took longer to fade from my memory as I recalled my own fear that something had happened to her, the way I'd frozen in the middle of a meeting with Cassian and three of the highest ranking Illyrian lords over the new training program for the Illyrian girls, the way I'd nearly crushed a man's throat without realizing it in my fear and rage.

"I should have sent Mor that day," I finally managed to say, still furious at the memory.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, her mental shields shot back up, shining black adamant meant to block me from her thoughts. And her face became just as impassive, suddenly pale as she cast her eyes down and grabbed her book and tea from the table.

It had been a hard morning to say the least. And Feyre had let herself feel more today than I'd seen from her in a long time. And I'd made it worse, pushed and goaded her until she was furious, underestimating just how pissed she'd be at being used as bait. I hadn't realized how badly she'd react, hadn't, in my own arrogance, considered how she'd spent months being lied to and protected from the truth for her own good until she'd tackled me to the ground and was snarling in my face.

In truth, I had been pissed off enough on my own not to see how truly upset she was until it was in my face. I hadn't planned on how hard it would be to lie to her and leave her alone in the woods, even though I'd put up plenty of wards around her and had my senses attuned to her every breath the entire time. I told myself it was important, that we needed to know what we were up against, and yet, when I sensed her fear and winnowed in to find the Attor's arms wrapped around her neck, I had almost lost my control that instant. It had been my own rage that had blinded me to how upset she was and I was pissed at myself for not thinking the whole thing through.

She was halfway down the hall when I called after her.

"Feyre, I am sorry-" For so much. I couldn't even begin to tell her how sorry I was for what I'd put her through, for lying to her, for goading her, for not seeing how upset she was until it was too late. "-about deceiving you earlier," I finished lamely.

She didn't stop or turn around, but I saw some tension slip from her shoulders. Without looking back at me, she said, "I need to write a letter."

And then she disappeared upstairs and stayed there for hours.

It was with great determination that I avoided eavesdropping. Even if I'd wanted to, her mental shields were strong and I couldn't get past them. I tried to focus on my own work, on the letters of my own that I needed to write and the endless paperwork that Mor sent my way in spite of the fact that there was war looming and I had significantly better things to do. As I worked, I would get drips of emotions from Feyre, nothing more than flashes of irritation and anger and grief through the bond and nothing so intense that I felt the need to run up the stairs and barge into her room. Even so, it took more effort than I wanted to admit not to go check on her. Dozens of excuses to drop by her room flooded my mind, each one more idiotic than the last.

I let her be. She didn't need me to check on her and if there was something she wanted from me, I had to trust that she'd ask. I focused very hard on ignoring my own curiosity and worked my way studiously through the pile of paperwork on my desk.

I was on my way out the door when she called my name. I waited for her in the foyer and tried not to let my curiosity show on my face as she thrust a piece of paper into my hands.

"I need you to get this to Tamlin."

Her hair was a mess, like she'd been running her fingers through it. She hadn't changed out of the clothes she'd been wearing in the human realm, but the sleeves were pushed back over her elbows and there was a smudge of ink on one arm. My eyebrows rose as my fingers closed around the sheet of paper and she took a step back.

"May I?" I asked, gesturing with the paper in my hands.

A long moment passed before she nodded. "Yes."

I unfolded the letter and read:

 _I left of my own free will._

 _I am cared for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave._

 _Please don't come looking for me. I'm not coming back._

I read it twice before I folded it in half again and sent it to Tamlin's desk in that study he'd decimated with his power all those weeks ago. "Are you sure?"

I could get it back before he noticed just as easily as I had sent it there. I waited for her to take it back, for her eyes to fill with tears or panic or both. But there was no apprehension on her face as she looked out the window, out to where the sun was shining brightly down on my city. She exhaled and I could feel the weight lifting from her very soul as she took a deep breath.

"I am no one's pet," she finally said.

My words from so long ago coming out of her mouth with such conviction were one of the sweetest things I'd ever heard. She was no one's pet, no one's subject, no one's plaything. She was my wild, free, brilliant and brave mate and she belonged to no one but herself, not even me. To hear her acknowledge it and take ownership over herself was a gift. Because if she at last owned herself, there was now a chance that she might, someday, be able to give herself to me freely, and that was all I wanted in this world.

'"What's next?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"For what it's worth, I did actually want to give you a day to rest-"

"Don't coddle me," she snapped and it was a struggle for me to keep my expression neutral.

"I'm not," I replied. "And I'd hardly call our encounter this morning rest." I ran an eye over her, taking in how her cheeks were still sunken in and pale. Better than before, yes, she'd only been here for a week. Even if she had managed to keep her food down for the last few days, it had only barely begun to show on her face. "But you will forgive me if I make assessments based on your current physical condition."

"I'll be the one who decides that," she snapped again. And then, with less venom. "What about the Book of Breathings?"

"Once Azriel returns from dealing with the Attor, he's to put his other skill set to use and infiltrate the mortal queens' courts to learn where they're keeping it-and what their plans might be. And as for the half in Prythian…' I thought about the still unanswered letter I'd sent to Tarquin and hoped that his advisors wouldn't forbid him from inviting us for a visit. "We'll go to the Summer Court within a few days, if my request to visit is approved. High Lords visiting other courts makes everyone jumpy. We'll deal with the Book then."

I had answered her question the best of my ability, so I stopped talking and watched her take the information in. She stared at me for a long moment and then something flashed in her eyes and her posture changed ever so slightly so that she was standing up just a little straighter.

"You told me that this city was better seen at night," she said, and there was something almost playful in her tone. "Are you all talk, or will you ever bother to show me?"

The words caught me off guard and I didn't bother hiding the laugh as I saw the challenge in her eyes. Maybe she had only been here a week and maybe she was still healing, but she was strong and she was finally fighting to get herself back. _This_ was the woman I loved, the mate who could stand by my side if she decided it was what she wanted. This was the beginnings of a High Lady who could change the world. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

"Dinner," I said in response to her challenge. "Tonight. Let's find out if you, Feyre darling, are all talk-or," I gave her my most wicked grin, "if you'll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town."


	4. Darkness That Soothes

Azriel was pissy in a way I hadn't seen for at least a century. His feelings didn't manifest themselves as anger, but it tinged every blow he dealt as we sparred. I knew that he had a lot of unresolved emotions regarding his own self-worth, knew that he judged himself harshly based on his skills and how well he felt he was serving his Court, and knew that the fact that Mor was the first one to see him after his failure to infiltrate the mortal queens' realm was eating away at him. So I let him take all that frustration and annoyance and anger out on me. Especially when my only other option had been watching Cassian train Feyre.

It wasn't that I was worried about Cassian's abilities as a teacher. He'd been training my forces for centuries and he was, without question, the best at what he did. It was that Feyre was in Illyrian fighting leathers again and even though it was the third time I'd seen her wearing them, I hadn't gotten used to it. She was fierce in them, a warrior queen. Watching her lithe body as Cassian walked her through the basics of hand-to-hand combat, seeing the seeds of her own deadly power as they were sown . . . It was intoxicating.

So I let Azriel come at me with all his frustration and anger and I went at him with all my own pent-up frustration and within half an hour, we were both sweating so much that we'd stripped out of our shirts. On the other side of the courtyard, Cassian wasn't holding back as he trained Feyre. I could feel her exhaustion and determination and the occasional moments of delight when she landed a punch through the bond.

Now, she and Cassian were sitting at the edge of the courtyard and Cassian was cracking some stupid line about how out of shape I was. I saw the hint of a smile on Azriel's face when he heard it. I was considering calling for a break so that we could join them for a drink when Cassian asked.

"So, when are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you've left for good?"

It was a good thing that Azriel was between me and them. Even still, I considered winnowing over there just so I could smack Cassian across the back of the head for being so blatant. Feyre hadn't said a word about that letter since our conversation in the foyer yesterday afternoon and I didn't want to push her. I glared at Az, since he was the only one who knew about the letter, and therefore the only one who could have told Cassian. He just gave me a little shrug and I considered smacking him across the back of the head too.

But, as always, Feyre surprised me. "How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?"

It was the last thing either Az or I had been expecting her to say. Azriel tripped, actually _tripped_ over his own foot as he strained to hear how Cassian replied. He noticed me noticing his reaction and recovered quickly, attacking me with more fire and frustration to make up for it, but I knew that Cassian had noticed too.

His laughter carried across the courtyard, only slightly strained and then, loud enough for everyone on the rooftop to hear, "Old news."

"I have a feeling that's what she probably says about you."

Cassian snapped something in reply, but I was too focused on Feyre to pay attention what he'd said. His question circled in her head and I could feel the pangs as she considered the reprecussions down the bond

"Rhys told you?" she finally asked, her voice low.

Again, I shot Azriel a glare. Again, my brother merely shrugged at me. What was done was done and there was nothing he or anybody else could do about it now. Across the courtyard, Cassian was trying to explain himself. Feyre finished her glass of water and pushed past Cassian to get back into the ring, her agitation clear. Azriel noticed too and I sensed him taking stock of the situation, evaluating what he'd do if she got volatile, assessing if Cassian was in any danger, and determining how he'd intervene if it was necessary.

But Cassian wasn't in any danger. Except of maybe choking on his own foot as he tried to pull it out of his mouth.

"Hey," he said. Both Az and I were more concentrated on what was happening on the other side of the ring than on our own maneuvers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit a nerve. Az only told me because I told him I needed to know for my own forces; to know what to expect." That bit was as much for my benefit as it was for Feyre's. I rolled my eyes at Azriel, a sign that I wasn't angry at him for telling Cassian and he gave me a small smile back. Across the courtyard, Cas said, "None of us...we don't think it's a joke, What you did was a hard call. A really damn hard call. It was just my shitty way of trying to see if you needed to talk about it. I'm sorry."

Feyre gave him a long, evaluatory look before finally taking her place in the ring. "All right."

She wrapped up her hands and Cassian gave her a little smile. It was the kind I'd seen him give soldiers who needed extra encouragement on the battlefield, the kind of the smile that fostered loyalty and love in the men he led into battle. "You didn't answer my question."

She didn't answer him right away and I could feel her mulling the question over, questioning her feelings and her actions and the changes she'd seen in herself over the last week. But to Cassian, she only said, "I'm fine." and then proceeded to deliver good, clean punches from her left, the side she'd been struggling with all afternoon.

I lost track of what Cassian was saying, parrying against Azriel's blows automatically without making any moves to the offense. I got lost in the whirlwind of emotions that were coursing through the woman on the other side of the ring. She was attacking the sparring pads with a strength she hadn't used earlier, but perhaps she hadn't even been capable of that kind of strength earlier. Her punches were smooth and fast and each strike was perfectly on target. I could see that Cassian was actually working to keep from stepping backwards from the impact. And then her hands started blurring and one of the sparring pads ripped, the tear in the leather audible over the clang of our swords.

Fury, such fury ripped through her. Righteous anger that finally had an outlet as she struck the sparring pads. Her rage gave her strength and soon the thick cotton core of the sparring pads was flying through the air. Still she kept on punching. I felt Azriel relax some of his tension from earlier. This, he had seen before. We all had. This was the pent up emotion, the fear and anger and guilt and sadness that we had all experienced to one degree or another at different points in our lives.

This was Cassian knocking me to the ground and beating the living shit out of me for making an offhand comment about a washerwoman when we were twelve.

This was Azriel the day after he'd learned what Cassian and I had done to his half-brothers more than three hundred years ago, the one of the only times I'd seen him completely lose control of his carefully contained emotions.

This was Mor decimating our family's cabin in the mountains after Amren had nailed a note over the kitchen sink, unknowingly using the same type of nail that had been used on Mor's body.

This was Amren fighting Mor back because she finally, _finally_ had found someone in this foreign realm who actually could fight her and it felt _good_.

This was me, fighting and fighting and fighting the both of my brothers at once and then falling to the ground, sobbing like a child two days after my father and I had visited the Spring Court to kill its High Lord and his sons.

This was Feyre, sobbing as she confronted everything she'd been trying to keep inside all these months. This was Feyre, whose frenzied fists turned into living embers as the last of that toxic rage was finally exhumed.

Azriel and I dropped our swords at the same time as her glowing fist connected with Cassian bare skin.

"I'm all right," he said, his voice soft. He knew this kind of grief, knew how your body could carry impossibly heavy burdens until suddenly, it just couldn't bare the weight of them any longer.

She looked up at him through her tears and whispered, "I killed them."

"I know," he said. He'd had this conversation before. He'd held me in the mud, covered in blood and sweat and tears as I said it over and over again, crying it into the folds of his tunic. That's all he'd been able to say back then and it had somehow been enough.

"It should have been me," she said and looked away as a sob shook her still too-thin shoulders.

Before Cassian could reply, I'd traded places with him. It was a magic I rarely used because it was so disconcerting to the person I was trading places with, but if Cassian minded, he'd have to tell me so later. I was in front of Feyre and she had my sole focus now. Without missing a beat, Cassian had picked up my sword and took my place sparring with Azriel.

I wrapped my wings around her, shielding her from their concerned eyes. I wanted nothing more than to pull her against my chest and hold her as the storm of emotions began to ebb away. But that wasn't an option. She wasn't mine to hold like that and I didn't want to push her like that. So, against every instinct that told me to hold her and kiss away her tears, I slipped my fingers beneath her chin and tipped until she was looking up at me.

Her eyes were the heavy, dark grey of stormclouds over the sea and still shone with the silver of her tears. The scent of her sweat mixed with the scent of her tears filled the cocoon of my wings and the combination was a heady, salty thing that only managed to heightened the spicy floral scent that was so purely Feyre. Crushing guilt poured out of those eyes and it shredded my heart to know that nothing I could possibly say or do could take away that pain. But I could at least let her know that she was not alone.

"You will feel that way every day for the rest of your life," I finally said. She tried to pull away from me, but I didn't let her. I waited until those stormcloud eyes met mine again and told her, "And I know this because I have felt that way every day since my mother and sister were slaughtered and I had to bury them myself, and even retribution didn't fix it." Tears spilled down her cheeks and I released her chin so that I could wipe them away. "You can either let it wreck you, let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it."

Feyre looked up at me and I wondered at what she saw there. Could she see my love for her? Could she feel the mating bond, gentle yet insistent as it pulled us together? Could she tell how grateful I was to the Mother and the Cauldron just to be in her presence at this moment? If she could, she didn't reveal it.

Finally, after what could have been a millennia or a mere moment, she said. "I'm sorry—about your family." Her voice was so soft I wouldn't have been able to hear it if I hadn't been standing so close.

"I'm sorry I didn't find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain." I could barely manage to get the words out around the sudden tightness in my chest. "From dying. From wanting to die." She started shaking her head, but I kept talking, the words pouring from my lips. A confession for a confession. "I have two kinds of nightmares: the ones where I'm again Amarantha's whore or my friends are . . ." I closed my eyes against the memory that sprang, unbidden in my head. "And the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes."

She didn't say anything, and there wasn't anything that she could have said that was better than the knowledge that she was in front of me, alive and, at least, recovering, if not completely well. I felt her gaze on my body like it was her hand trailing along my skin. I tried not to shiver as she took her time examining me.

Once she was through, she lifted one hand between us. I could feel the residual heat on her skin and it took me a moment to register what she was silently asking.

"Ah." The emotional barrage was over and now she needed normalcy. I pulled back my wings and the weak winter sunlight shone down on us again, lightening her eyes just a bit. "That."

"Autumn Court, right?"

I took her hand and turned it over in both of mine. She was already starting to show bruises from her sparring. Knowing Cassian, these were just the beginning. There was shockingly little hatred in my voice as I thought about the source of that particular elemental power, especially considering his history with my family. "Right. A gift for its High Lord, Beron."

I hated Beron and always had. He was old and powerful and brutal and I would never forgive him for raising a son as despicable as Eris. But this was not the time. "I'm not well versed in the complexities of the other High Lords' elemental gifts," I said. "But we can figure it out-day by day, if need be."

"If you're the most powerful High Lord in history . . ." she began, sounding more and more like her normal self with every word, "does that mean the drop I got from you holds more sway over the others?"

I knew she was thinking about the night she'd been able to get inside my head. The words were there, right there on my lips _That's probably because of the mating bond_ , but I couldn't say them outloud. Not here, not like this, not when she was only starting to heal. Surely, that would be too much too soon.

"Give it a try," I said instead. "See if you can summon darkness. I won't ask you to try to winnow."

To her credit, she did not glare at me outright as I teased. "I don't know how I didn't it to begin with."

"Will it into being." She didn't even blink as she stared up at me, annoyance written across her face. I shrugged. "Try thinking of me—how good-looking I am. How talented—"

"How arrogant," she snapped.

"That too." I crossed my arms.

"Put a shirt on while you're at it," she snipped and I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"I'm surprised there aren't more mirrors in this house, since you seem to love looking at yourself so much," she retorted.

If Azriel hadn't started choking to hide his laughter and reminded me that they were still on the rooftop with us, I might have kissed her right there. "There's the Feyre I adore."

She gave me a scowl, but there was no heat behind it, and dutifully closed her eyes. Almost immediately, all those emotions from before came bubbling back up.

"There are different kinds of darkness," I tried to explain and she stood there with her eyes screwed shut. "There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful." I felt her calming as I spoke the words that my mother had told me hundreds of years earlier. When I'd first started displaying my powers and had been afraid of my ability to summon night, sure that it meant that I was evil. She had held me in her arms and explained the nature of darkness to me. "There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good."

In spite of the calm that had begun to settle over her, I still felt the spikes of her fear through the bond as she looked inside and only found the terrible, terrible darkness. Without thinking, I reached out my own darkness and channeled all my love for her into the tendrils of night that flooded the courtyard.

"Fuck," Cassian said from somewhere behind us, caught off guard by the sudden loss of light.

"Big Illyrian warlord, afraid of the dark," Azriel taunted, finally sounding more like himself. Their blades started clanging again.

"Open your eyes," I told Feyre.

I felt it when she did, when she allowed my darkness to soothe away her own. And then I started to play, teasing out starlight and moonbeams that illuminated the awe on her face. She reached out a hand and let a star play across her fingertips. I was struck, not for the first time that day, with how beautiful she was and I ached with the knowledge of the secret I was keeping from her. I let the darkness fade away.

She blinked in the bright light, squinting up at me like she'd forgotten I was standing there.

"We can work on it later," I told her. The wind shifted and her scent assaulted me. Cauldron boil me, I was going to die right here on this rooftop. "For now, go take a bath."


	5. His Nightmare

The screaming was so loud that my ears rang, but when I went to cover them, my fingers met with a wet warmth. I pulled my hands away to see what was on them and realized that I was covered in blood. My hair dripped it into my eyes and it ran down my arms and soaked my shirt and pants. I was kneeling in a pool of it and it was raining over me. So much blood and not a drop of it my own.

Claire Beddor's blood. The blood of half of the Court of Nightmares. The blood of ifrits and the High Lord of the Summer Court. My mother's blood. My sister's blood. Cassian's blood. Azriel's blood. Mor's blood. Amren's blood. I was swimming in the blood of all the people I'd hurt, all the people I'd let down, all the people I'd killed and there was no escaping it. Their screams wrapped themselves around me, until I was screaming too.

And just when I thought I couldn't stand it any long, like I would go crazy from the blood and the screaming and the guilt that was consuming me from the inside out, it was gone. I was clean and kneeling on floor of Amarantha's court Under the Mountain and there were children surrounding me. They were silent. Some were barely old enough to stand on their own. Some holding hands, clinging to each other in terror. Some with tears slipping down their faces. All of them staring at me with terrified eyes and gaping mouths, all completely silent.

They didn't belong Under the Mountain. They weren't supposed to be here. From a distance, I heard someone screaming my name, but it was so quiet that I didn't pay attention to it. Couldn't pay attention to it, not when all these children were standing here, staring at me, waiting for me to do something, anything to help them. But I couldn't. I was frozen to the spot, unable to do so much as lift my pinkie.

Whoever was screaming my name had gotten closer. I could hear the panic and fear in that voice, and yet, I couldn't look away from the crowd of children.

A ripple in the crowd as they slowly stepped away from me, parting so that I had a clear view of the other side of the room. The child in front of me, a little girl no older than five or six, was the last to step aside. When she did, she raised a chubby fist and pointed.

Across the room was Amarantha, her hands raised as she manipulated the magic she'd stolen from us. And before her, writhing on the ground, was Feyre. It had been Feyre screaming my name over and over, her cries punctuated with sickening cracks as her bones snapped one by one.

The children were gone, thank the Mother, and there was a knife in my hand. I lunged across the room, slipping on Feyre's blood as I ran for Amarantha, dagger poised to kill. I ignored the stab of pain that shot through my head as I ran. All I could hear was Feyre screaming my name as she died. Any second now Amarantha would break Feyre's neck and I couldn't let it happen. Not again. I leapt over Feyre's prone body and slammed Amarantha into the wall behind her. The knife in my hand transformed into claws as I readied myself to rip her throat out.

And then Amarantha's face morphed into Feyre's, her face pale against the wall.

"Rhysand," she said in a voice so soft that I almost didn't hear it over the thudding of my heart. A trick. It was just a trick. Amarantha had seen me kissing Feyre in the hall. She suspected that Feyre meant more to me than she'd realized. She was using that knowledge against me to keep me from killing her. It wouldn't work. I tightened my grip and raised my clawed fingers again.

And then I felt her. Not Amarantha, but Feyre. A calming hand brushing against my mental shield and her voice echoing through my head, _Rhys_. Music, soft and gentle, filled my head and wrapped itself around my heart.

"It was a dream." Her voice wasn't singing along the bond this time, but filling me ears. I focused on it, letting it draw me up and up through the layers of sleep until I could hear her more clearly. "It was a dream."

It was dark when I opened my eyes. The darkness of pain and anger and horrible, hidden things. There was a gentle caress in the darkness, stars and galaxies pressing themselves up against the sick blackness that poured out of my soul. And slowly, tentatively, the tenor of the darkness changed. Soothing, soft darkness rubbed up against the pain-filled and guilt stricken ichor that leaked from me and transformed it into something as sweet and loving as a lullaby.

I took a deep breath and the darkness flickered long enough for me to see Feyre's face beneath me, her skin pale even paler than my white silk sheets. My dream flashed through my mind, Amarantha trying to trick me. Just another way to play with my mind and torment me.

"Feyre," I heard her say, but the word sounded like she was speaking underwater. I was confused and frightened and angry that I couldn't tell the difference between Amarantha and my mate.

"I'm Feyre," she said, her voice clearer now and as calm and melodic as the lullaby in the darkness. I felt her warm fingers wrap around my wrist. "You were dreaming."

The sweet darkness of lovers caressed me from the inside out, running gentle fingers along my mental shields. I was awake. Amarantha was dead. It was just a dream.

The darkness vanished and moonlight washed over my room. My room in the townhouse. In Velaris. I was in Velaris and Amarantha was dead and-

"Feyre," I managed to choke out. My throat ached and I could still taste the blood from my dream.

"Yes." The word drew my attention outward again, to the woman I'd pinned to my bed with a hand at her throat. Not Amarantha. Amarantha was dead. Feyre was alive and well and she was in my bed with my hand wrapped around her throat.

I withdrew my hand and shrank away from her, horror washing over me as I began to piece together what had happened. The dream had been so bad that my darkness had gotten out of control. It must have woke her and she'd come to check on me, as I had done for her all those nights ago when she'd almost set her bed on fire. I rubbed my eyes and dragged my hands over my face. My _taloned_ hands. Mother above, how close had I been to shifting?

She was moving beneath me, pulling herself up so that she was sitting on the bed instead of laying beneath me. "You were having a nightmare."

I dropped my hands and the talons disappeared. Across from me, her hair was loose and mussed, her pale nightclothes and skin shining in the moonlight. Except for the red marks on her throat from where I'd grabbed her. Horror washed over me. "I'm sorry."

"That's why you're staying here, not at the House," she said. "You don't want the others seeing this."

"I normally keep it contained to my room," I said, still staring at my hands. "I'm sorry it woke you."

"How often does it happen?" she asked and I raised my head to look at her. Her grey eyes shone with compassion in the moonlight. She understood me. She had been there and she had nightmares too. Had them still, even if they hadn't woken her and sent her running for the toilet since that first night. "As often as you."

"What did you dream of tonight?"

The children and their silent, terrified faces flashed across my mind's eye. I shook my head, not ready to speak acknowledge the dream and the incident it stemmed from. I looked out the window, at my city, safe and twinkling outside my window. I had done so much to save this city and the people here. But that didn't mean I wanted to talk about it. "There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you."

She was silent for a long moment and then her warm hand was on my elbow. Her touch soothed the violent thing twisting around in my gut and I was able to breathe more easily.

"When you want to talk, let me know," she said. " I won't tell the others."

 _When_ , not _if_. She knew that eventually I'd have to share all the horror and the guilt and the pain, lest it devour me from the inside out. But she wouldn't force me until I was ready. I loved her for it.

The mattress dipped as she shifted, making to head back to her own room. I grabbed her hand, pressing it against my arm, not ready to let her go yet. "Thank you."

She didn't move for another long moment and her breath was the only thing I could hear as she studied me. I was too drained in the aftermath of the dream to try to put on a mask to hide my feelings from her. And I found that I didn't care if she saw the real me, the broken and tormented man behind the mask of the most powerful High Lord ever. With Feyre, I was safe.

And then she leaned forward and brushed her lips over my cheek, her warm breath ghosting across my skin, her sweet and spicy scent filling my nose. Every thought and every emotion froze when her lips touched my skin. She pulled away just as quickly and I couldn't fathom how to form words as she slipped off the bed and padded towards the door.

She paused at the threshold. I thought I felt a flicker of something pure and shining sing down the bond, but she'd disappeared into the hallway before I'd managed to lift my head. My thoughts were so tangled that I didn't move for a long time after she'd left. I didn't fall back asleep.


	6. Before The Court of Nightmares

I had promised Feyre honesty after the Weaver and the Attor. I wanted to make sure she understood completely what she was walking into tomorrow. And I wanted her to have the opportunity to say no, if that's what she needed.

As I waited in the foyer for her to return from her walk, I realized that I wanted her to say no. I didn't want to take her under another mountain. I didn't want to remind her of the monster I was to the rest of the world. I didn't want her to have to debase herself like that. I had seen the way the members of the Court of Nightmares had looked at her Under the Mountain. Not one of them had dared to touch her then, and they wouldn't now, but I had seen their eyes on her. Painted and afraid and drunk on faerie wine, she had been a constant source of entertainment for them, gone from being one High Lord's plaything to another's. It sickened me to imagine her put in that position again, even if it was, and always had been, a lie.

And if my reluctance to bring back before those people who had seen her so debased wasn't enough, there was the fact that Feyre was actually beginning to like me. Not tolerate, not endure, but she actually seemed to enjoy herself when we were together. She'd kissed me on the cheek. It'd been weeks ago now, but she'd come into my room, in spite of the darkness rolling off of me and she'd comforted me. Kissed me. I could tell that she missed me when I had to leave Velaris to attend to duties in the rest of my territory too. It was enough to give me hope that I might be able to tell her about the mating bond soon. That she might be ready to accept it.

The mating bond had been pressing on me more and more lately. And this morning . . . Cauldron boil me, seeing her crowned with a diadem that matched mine and dressed like a queen of the Night Court had been one thing, but to see her face the disdain of her own kind without flinching and plead for peace by my side had been more than right. It had been perfect. We were perfect together. Her place was beside me as an equal and we were getting so close. I hated the idea of putting any of that at risk by bringing her to the Court of Nightmares.

Feyre smelled of the Sidra as she walked through the door. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, drawing my attention to how they'd filled out over the past weeks. Her eyes were bright and clear and no longer framed with dark circles and she was still wearing that crown woven into her hair. She had a coat on over her white dress, but even so, she looked like a queen.

She froze in the middle of the foyer when she saw me waiting for her and immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

I had promised her honesty, so I truthfully replied, "I'm debating asking you stay tomorrow."

And then she was defiant, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning. "I thought I was going."

No, not defiant, I realized. She was protecting herself, crossing her arms over her chest like she could shield her heart from the pain of being pushed aside. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to explain myself to her. "What I have to be tomorrow, who I have to become is not…it's not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others..."

"The mask of the High Lord," she finished for me.

Of course, she had seen me like that before. I had lived like that for so long Under the Mountain that it had been easy to be the cruel. And maybe that's what bothered me the most. I did not want to give her a reason to remember how she had despised me before.

"Yes," I muttered, sinking to bottom step of the stairs behind me.

She regarded me . "Why don't you want me to see that?"

Because you're my mate and I don't want you to fear me. The words were right there on the edge of my tongue, but I bit them back. Instead, I spoke other truths that were just as troubling to me.

"Because you've only started to look at me like I'm not a monster, and I can't stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath that mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you."

I watched her as she made the connection and remembered how Amarantha had seen the Court of Nightmares and decided to model her court Under the Mountain after it. She nodded once, as if she knew what the stakes were and found them acceptable. Her eyes were steel grey in her resolve as she met my gaze and said, "Let me help. In whatever way I can."

But she didn't know. When Amren had suggested that Feyre could serve as a distraction, she hadn't elaborated much because we had all known what kind of behavior would provide a distraction for the Court of Nightmares. But Feyre had been drunk on faerie wine during the nights that Amarantha's court had reflected the violence and obscenity that occurred in the Court of Nightmares. Without even that for context, Feyre had agreed because it would help us and I loved her for it. That didn't mean that I didn't want to shield her from it.

"The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one," I began.

"I trust you," she said immediately and my heart ached. She did trust me. The idea of putting that trust in jeopardy, even if it was to save the world, was abhorrent. She closed the distance between us and sat down next to me on the stairs. The cool night air still clung to her coat and she was close enough to me that I could feel it caressing my skin.

"Why did Mor look so disturbed when she left?"

I swallowed down the guilt and anger that her question brought to the surface. I had dedicated years to making sure that Mor wouldn't have to visit the Court of Nightmares any more than was necessary. Her visits there were usually scheduled weeks in advance so she could prepare herself mentally and emotionally for the trip back to her childhood home. I hated that I could only give her only an evening's notice in advance. She was nearly as old as I was, but I still saw the golden-haired wild child whose laughter filled the halls of the Hewn City with music when I looked at her. And what they had done to her for it…

Feyre was still waiting for me to answer her question. I gave her only the barest facts. Mor could tell Feyre the rest, if and when she decided to. "I was there, in the Hewn City, the day her father declared she was to be sold in marriage to Eris, eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court." Her eyes flickered in recognition and I struggled to keep the anger out of my voice. "Eris had a reputation for cruelty, and Mor…begged me not to let it happen." I could still see her lovely face, her eyes wide and wild and full of tears as she pleaded with me. "For all her power, all her wildness, she had no voice, no rights with those people. And my father didn't particularly care if his cousins used their offspring as breeding stock."

"What happened?" Feyre asked.

The words poured out of me. "I brought Mor to the Illyrian camp for a few days. And she saw Cassian, and decided she'd do the one thing that would ruin her value to these people. I didn't know until after, and...it was a mess. With Cassian, with her, with our families. And it's another long story, but the short of it is that Eris refused to marry her. Said she'd been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and now he'd sooner fuck a sow. Her family … they …" Images of her destroyed body flashed through my head. Mor had refused to let me see the memories, but I had been able to gather enough from the nature of her wounds. Even under the care of the best healers in Velaris, it had still taken her almost a year to walk again and longer to regain the use of her right hand. I cleared my throat and pushed down the rage, willed my voice to be steady. "When they were done, they dumped her on the Autumn Court border, with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris's problem." I felt Feyre stiffen at the words, felt the horror and anger surge across the bond as she processed the atrocity that had been done to her friend. "Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods. Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all."

The anger, such anger, kept surging along the bond. Next to me, heat started to radiate off of her, dispelling what remained of the cool night air clinging to her coat in an instant. She reached for my hand and her skin was hot, but she was in control of that fire power. It was instinctive for my thumb to brush along the back of her hand, to try to offer what comfort I could.

She looked up at me and her eyes were hard as flint as she said in the voice of a warrior queen, "Tell me what I need to do tomorrow."

"You told me once that you were no one's pet," I started, looking deep into her eyes as I said with unshakable conviction, "And you are not."

"But?"

I sighed and ran my free hand through my hair again. "But I am going to ask you to act like you are." To her credit, she didn't flinch away from my gaze or pull her hand from mine. I went on, "I will have to—to use you like you are my plaything. To be the High Lord's whore once again. Tomorrow, we are going to pretend that I am making a statement to all of Prythian by presenting you to the Court of Nightmares."

There were plenty of people in the Hewn City who had seen Feyre with me Under the Mountain, who had seen how I'd dressed her in the revealing clothes of the Court of Nightmares and ordered her to dance for me or kept her sitting on my lap during those horrible nights. It had raised plenty of eyebrows then. And I knew enough from what Azriel had gleaned from his spies that most of the other Courts believed Feyre was merely a fickle woman who couldn't make up her mind about what she wanted. I'd paid to have those rumors squashed with the truth, but many still didn't, our wouldn't, believe it.

And bringing her to the Court of Nightmares would only make that worse.

She squeezed my hand a little tighter. "I trust you," she said again, her voice firm and soft. "I know you won't ask me to do anything I am incapable of doing."

There was nothing but self-assurance and trust zinging along the bond between us and I wanted to have faith in my ability to deserve that trust. "Feyre..."

"What will make you feel better?" she asked. "Tell me exactly what to expect from you and I'll tell you if there's anything that I can't stand the thought of you doing."

The idea of explaining every step to her, of saying the things I'd do out loud, was almost worse than the thought of actually doing them. For the first time in centuries, I felt embarrassed. Even so, I played the scenario out in my head, and started talking. It was the least I could do.

"I'll have to dress you like I did Under the Mountain," I began, my throat dry. She narrowed her eyes, but didn't protest. "And you'll enter first with Mor. She always goes ahead of me to give them time to prepare themselves for my arrival." It's a small courtesy that they don't deserve, but I don't mention that. "You shouldn't say a word until I arrive. It won't be safe. They'll expect you to be docile and needy, like I own you, body and soul and nothing else matters to you."

She swallowed, hard, and I expected her to let go of my hand, but she didn't. "Keep going."

"Mor will kneel first, followed by the rest of the Court. You'll kneel with everyone else and I'll come to you and welcome you to my Court. And even though everyone will still be kneeling, they'll be watching us. I've never brought a...lover to the Court of Nightmares. I rarely bring anyone there with me and certainly not anyone as controversial as you. Keir will be dying to talk to you and feel what kind of relationship exists between us and there are other powerful people who will be watching how we interact with him. They all have contacts in other Courts and whatever they learn will spread like wildfire within a few days."

"And if they think I'm your whore…"

I flinch at the word. It had never bothered me when I was the whore, but the thought that anyone referring to Feyre like that made my blood boil. "They will all be fixated with you so that they can collect information and sell it to the highest bidder."

She nodded slowly and chewed on her lower lip. "What's next?"

I took a long, deep breath, trying to imagine the scenario with anyone but Feyre, hoping it would make it easier to talk about. It didn't.

"I'll probably do something outrageous and idiotic, like throw you over my shoulder or sit you on my lap. Something that's unprecedented and will most definitely piss Keir off." That was the silver lining in this whole fucked up situation. Pissing of Keir was something I didn't get to do often enough. "He'll approach the throne and give me reports on everything that's happened in the Hewn City since I was there last."

"How long ago was that?" Feyre asked.

"Before you came to Velaris," I cringed as I remembered the last time I'd been there. I'd felt that terrifying burst of fear across the bond, saw the splatter of red against the wall, and then nothing. I'd almost ripped Keir's head off just because he was the first thing I saw when vision cleared. "I try to only visit the Court of Nightmares a few times a year."

She nodded. "And then?"

"And then, while every eye is on the two of us, Azriel will go to Mor's family's quarters and retrieve the Orb. We'll have to do whatever we need to in order to distract them until he returns . . ." I trailed off, looking intently at the floorboards, not wanting to go into the dirty details.

I wanted Feyre. It was getting harder and harder just to be in her presence without being overcome with the urge to press her against the nearest flat surface and kiss her senseless. But I did not want it to happen like this. I wanted to touch her and hold her and kiss her because she wanted me to and I certainly didn't want to do any of that with an audience. I hated that this was the best solution we had been able to come up with.

Feyre leaned over so that she could wrap her other hand around mine so that my hand was cradled between both of hers. She angled her head and stared at me until I lifted my eyes to met hers. Her face was open and her eyes were clear when she said for the third time. "I trust you, Rhysand."

She let go of my fingers and stood up, her skirts swishing past me as she made her way up the stairs. I stayed where she left me, wondering if there were no words that could have adequately expressed how much I wanted that to be enough.

If it were for anything else besides saving the whole world, I might have actually asked her stay. The words were on my lips, ready to call after her as she reached the upstairs hallway, in spite of everything she'd said. But it was to save the world, and I wouldn't betray her trust. And I'd have to find a way to live with the rest of it.


	7. At The Court of Nightmares

By the time we left for the Hewn City, I'd resolved to just keep my mouth shut during the flight. I had hardly slept the night before and had been a peevish bastard all morning, snapping at anyone who got too close. Since I'd be the one flying Feyre to the base of the mountain, I didn't want to risk upsetting her by saying something I didn't mean as I sank further and further into my own dark thoughts, so I decided to just be quiet.

I could have winnowed us all there, but had decided against it. Going from the light and joy and peace of Velaris and appearing immediately at the foot of another mountain was enough to throw me off on good day. I didn't want to put Feyre through the same thing. And I had thought that the flight would help me release some of the tension that had built up in my chest.

It didn't.

Feyre's presence, the warmth and weight of her in my arms, helped to a certain degree. I'd carried her through the air enough times to recognize that she'd put on a little bit of weight since she'd first arrived and, under any other circumstances, it would have made me glad. It also would have made me glad to see that she felt more comfortable flying with me than she had been before. Her body fit easily against me when I picked her up, one arm resting comfortably over my shoulder while the other braced itself on my chest.

But Feyre was mostly silent for most of the flight and that made me more uneasy than I already was. I hated myself for not being able to think of another way to obtain the Veritas, hated that I couldn't spare her from this reminder of what she'd been through Under the Mountain. Every time I paused my scans of the ground below to look at her, she seemed lost in thought. Even the bond between us was quiet.

It was the silence in the bond that worried me the most. I could usually feel something from her, even if it was just vague impressions of what she was feeling. She wasn't good at concealing that from me, either because she didn't know she needed to or because it was some side effect of the mating bond. Either way, I had come to rely on that thing between us, and I was more than a little afraid of its absence. If she was retreating back into herself, if she was building walls around her heart to protect herself from what she knew waited in the Hewn City—I didn't think I could bear seeing her like that again. I'd call this whole stupid thing off before I'd risk losing her in that way.

"Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of . . . other parts," she said, interrupting my dark thoughts, and my eyes shot to hers in surprise. Her voice was steady and light. And _teasing_. Her eyes weren't clouded with fear and her face was calm. She wasn't afraid. She was playing with me, trying to get me out of my own cursed head.

"Did they now," I managed to say as I brought my awed thoughts back to what she'd said.

She shrugged and I felt a tingle of embarrassment along the bond. "They also said that Azriel's wings are the biggest."

I almost snorted in amusement, thinking about how she had seen me naked already, wondering if that was the source of her embarrassment. "When we return home, let's get out the measuring stick, shall we?"

She pinched me, her delicate fingertips grabbing just enough of the flesh of my bicep to sting. My wicked, wonderful mate. Two could play at that game. I grinned at her and angled my wings so that the wind pulled us down. I pulled my wings in tight and we plummeted through the sky, leaving my stress and worries in the clouds. Feyre was strong and brave and smart and she was not alone. We were together and, together, we were unstoppable.

Feyre flung her arms tightly around my neck as soon as we'd started falling, curving her body against mine. Now several hundred feet above and ahead of us, Az and Cas had stopped and were hovering, waiting for me to stop playing and get back on course. Feyre's face was pressed against my neck and I could feel her screaming against my skin, her breath warm on my throat as strands of her hair slapped my face. I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"You're willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?" I asked, angling my head close to hers so she could hear me over the roar of the wind.

"I'll leaves you to rot the next time you have a nightmare," she said into my neck, still clutching me even more tightly as I extended my wings and eased my body back into a stream of wind again, letting it right our position and carry me back towards the height we'd been at before.

"No you won't," I purred at her, still grinning. "You liked seeing me naked too much."

"Prick."

I laughed again, feeling better than I had in days. I loved her so unbelievably much and was so happy that she was with me, even in spite of the the role I'd asked her to play. She was perfect and wonderful and I was the luckiest bastard in the whole world.

Feyre readjusted herself in my arms so that she could cling even more tightly to me, her eyes still squeezed shut. I didn't complain as she latched her arms around my neck and her scent filled my nose. But it was an effort for me not to hiss when her fingers brushed against one of my wings.

I held steady, willed my body not to react to the primal instinct that surged through me at the innocent touch. But when, without lifting her head from my shoulder, she ran her finger along it again, I couldn't suppress the groan or the shudder as my entire focus narrowed to where her finger had ran along my wing.

"That is very sensitive," I managed to grit out.

She withdrew her finger immediately and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or not. I studied the mountains below us in an effort to refocus my concentration on the task at hand and not on the sudden pulsing in my blood as it surged towards my cock.

She pulled her face away from my neck and asked "Does it tickle?"

I allowed myself one look at her, at the blooming interest on her face and tried desperately to ignore the desire for her to run her hands over every inch of my wings. I went back to scanning the forest floor. Cauldron boil me, I wanted her to understand the effect her touch had on me, the power she possessed over me. I wanted her to know and to try it again.

"It feels like this," I said, and then I leaned in close enough for my lips to brush against skin and exhaled softly into her ear.

Her body's reaction was more than I'd hoped for. She arched in my arms and angled her chin up so that the column of her throat was exposed to me. I resisted the urge to run my tongue and teeth along the pale skin.

"Oh," she gasped.

"If you want an Illyrian male's attention, you'd be better off grabbing him by the balls," I explained, allowing some of the heat between us to dissipate. "We're trained to protect our wings at all costs. Some males attack first, ask questions later, if their wings are touched without an invitation."

"And during sex?" she asked and my blood went right back to burning through my veins at the question.

I didn't, couldn't, look at her. Keeping my voice as neutral as I could manage, I said, "During sex, an Illyrian male can find completion just by having someone touch his wings in the right spot."

I felt a shot of something I wasn't quite sure how to name yet through the bond. "Have you found that to be true?"

And then I did look at her, took in her inquisitive expression and wide grey eyes. "I've never allowed anyone to see or touch my wings during sex. It makes you vulnerable in a way that I'm not...comfortable with. "

I'd told her before that I'd had lovers, and it was true. But in five hundred years I'd never been in love with anybody, never felt comfortable enough to let them see all of me. I was a master of disguise and I'd spent five hundred years living behind different kinds of masks, especially when I had a woman in my life. Some of those masks were closer to the real me than others, but I'd had lovers who hadn't even known I had wings. The fact that I didn't feel the need to wear a mask with Feyre, that she had seen the real me so often and had not run from me, was perhaps the thing I loved most about her.

"Too bad," she said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Why?" I asked. She'd said the words too casually and I was unsure if I wanted to continue with the conversation.

She shrugged in my arms and I thought she might be trying to fight back a smile as she looked out over the mountains below us. When she spoke, her voice was bland, as if she were talking about the weather or a book she hadn't particularly enjoyed, "Because I bet you could get into some interesting positions with those wings."

Her words loosed another laugh and I felt myself growing lighter and she sloughed away more of the darkness swirling inside my head. I leaned forward, about to whisper something lewd about finding out when we got home, but I saw something dark and fast shooting towards us out of the corner of my eye. I'd been in enough battles to recognize the arrow as it flew towards us, aimed directly at Feyre.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I pulled my wings in tight and we plunged through the air, my body dodging on instinct as we tore through the sky. They kept coming, one after the other. A deliberate attack, not a stray arrow from a hunter. I threw my magic into a shield to protect us while I flew into the path of one. I shifted Feyre so that I could hold her with one arm and caught the arrow mid-flight.

A familiar pain seared my hand immediately and I dropped the arrow with a hiss. Ash arrows. Some dead man was shooting ash arrows at me. At Feyre.

White hot fury shot through me. At the same time, I felt a prickle of fear along the bond. Feyre remembering that her Fae body was vulnerable to ash, that a sliver of it could kill her. Her fear honed my senses and my instincts took over. My first priority was to make sure that Feyre was safe and nothing else mattered. I shot for the ground, eyes on the treeline, searching for our assailants. Her arms tightened around my neck as we fell from the sky, but my arm around her waist held her close to me, my magic fusing her body against mine to keep her from falling.

Some feral part of me had roared to life, the instinct to protect my mate, to destroy anything that would dare to harm her consuming every thought. I would kill them. I would find them and kill them all for trying to hurt her. The certainty thrummed in my blood, in every beat of my heart.

I saw flashes of blue and red in my periphery as Cassian and Azriel changed their trajectory and shot towards us. My eyes scanned the forest to determine where the shooters were situated, but the arrows had stopped flying. I couldn't ascertain where they'd come from and new fury ripped through my body at their cowardice.

Seconds later, I landed, snow flying and trees shaking with the force of the impact. My shields were still up and we were safer now that we were on the ground, but I couldn't bring myself to let go of Feyre until Cassian and Azriel joined us.

I met Cassian's furious gaze, his anger at being ambushed a whisper compared to mine. "Take her to the palace, and stay there until I'm back." My eyes flickered to Azriel. His face was expressionless, but there was anger in those dark eyes if you knew where to look for it. We were all pissed as hell. "Az, you're with me."

Cassian held out his arms to take Feyre from me. Her hair was a disaster and her cheeks were bright pink from the wind and I wanted to fly her out of here myself, wanted to take her far away where nothing could hurt her or threaten her. But I couldn't. I had to find the bastards who'd caused all this and make them pay for threatening her. She would be safe with Cassian. I had trusted Cassian with my life thousands of times. He would protect her like she was his own.

When she sidestepped his reach and said, "No," in a voice that was still breathless and shaking, I had to wrap a tight hand around my power to keep from blasting the trees into splinters.

"What?" The word tore from my lips before I could stop it, before I could think. She wasn't safe here and I wanted her to be safe. I didn't know if I'd be able to think straight until she was out of those woods.

"Take me with you," she said. There was a desperate edge to her voice that cut through the feral instincts that had taken over my mind, allowing me to think more clearly. I forced them back even further and crossed my arms, waiting for her to explain herself.

"I've seen ash arrows. I might recognize where they were made," she said, the words coming out too fast, like she was afraid of being interrupted. "And if they came from the hand of another High Lord...I can detect that too." Tarquin. Shit. If this was his doing I'd tear him and his whole Court apart, grand aspirations for equality or not. "And," she continued, "I can track just as well on the ground as any of you." She locked gazes with me, her eyes like steel. "So you and Cassian take the skies, and I'll hunt on the ground with Azriel."

In spite of my intense desire to keep her safe, I had to admit that it wasn't a bad plan. It was better than hunting with just Azriel while Cassian protected her at the moonstone palace. And she'd be just as safe with Az on the ground as she would be in the palace with Cassian. Even if they didn't know what she was to me yet, my brothers at least knew I loved her. More than that, they'd accepted her into our family. Neither of them would let anything happen to her. We'd be able to cover more ground this way too, and her gifts would be helpful in determining if our unseen enemies were from Hybern, as I suspected, or another Court.

Even if it had been a horrible plan, I wasn't sure if I would have been able to resist it with her standing there waiting for me to tell her no and send her away. Her face was stony, all traces of emotion hidden, a wall already building across the bond. Her attempt, I realized, to protect herself from feeling anything if I sent her away. But I wouldn't let her feel like that, not ever again.

"Cassian—I want aerial patrols on the sea borders, stationed in two-miles rings all the way out toward Hybern. I want foot soldiers in the mountain passes along the southern border; make sure those warning fires are ready on every peak. We're not going to rely on magic." Cassian nodded and I turned to Az. "When you're done, warn your spies that they might be compromised, and prepare to get them out. And put fresh ones in. We keep this contained. We don't tell anyone inside that court what happened. If anyone mentions it, say it was a training exercise."

I finally turned to Feyre and let myself take in her face, the new, fierce determination that flashed in her eyes. She wasn't afraid. There had been that single tremor of fear that had shot down the bond while we were in the air, but she wasn't afraid now. Maybe she wasn't as pissed as the rest of us were, but she was fine. Not a soldier waiting for orders, but a warrior queen. My warrior queen. I locked gazes with her. "We've got an hour until we're expect at court. Make it count."

I took to the skies, Cassian right behind me. The fire of my fury had iced over into something cold and vicious. This was the second time they'd known where Feyre would be. I didn't know who our enemy was and they were tracking us and I was beyond angry. I stopped being the most powerful High Lord in history and became a predator with one goal: Find them and kill them. No that Feyre was safe, there was nothing else that mattered.

Cassian used his Siphones to winnow away in midair to give orders to his troops and I flew fast to the area where I had last seen the arrows fly, but it was deserted. When Cassian returned minutes later, he headed in one direction and I went in the other, flying in low, slow intersecting circles until we'd scanned at least twenty miles in every direction.

There was no sign of them. Nothing. They had disappeared completely and by the end of the hour, I was beyond furious.

"One more," I told Azriel when he intercepted me in the air to tell me that he and Feyre had just a little luck on the ground and Mor had just taken her to the gates of the Hewn City.

Az raised an eyebrow. "Whoever shot those arrows is long gone, Rhys. They probably winnowed out before we were on the ground." He was right and I knew it, but the rage wouldn't let me go, not yet. Azriel must have seen that too, because he added, "Feyre and Mor are waiting for you."

Bringing up Feyre was enough for me to give in. Even though she was with Mor, who could level the mountain to dust if she so desired, I wanted to be with her. And I knew Az wanted to be there with Mor just as badly. He hated that Mor had to go back to the Court of Nightmares more than any of us, even if he kept it well-hidden. I grabbed his arm and winnowed us to the gates of the Hewn City.

Cassian was already there, waiting for us in his battle armor and extra Siphons. Azriel, too, wore his battle armor when we materialized out of thin air. They were an intimidating pair on a normal day, but now they wore matching furious expressions, only adding to how terrifying they were. These were the faces they wore on the battlefield, the war-hardened generals who'd had to fight for every good thing in their lives and weren't afraid to fight for it again. My brothers, my friends.

When I appeared from the wind and mist, I was perfectly High Fae on the outside, my wings hidden, my clothing impeccable, an ancient crown of stars on my brow. It was a mask my father had forced me to wear whenever we weren't in Velaris. He didn't care that I was a half-breed Illyrian, but as far as the rest of the world knew, I was just as High Fae as he was. There were those who knew, of course, that I was Illyrian, but it was a useful deception and one of the few I had maintained after his death.

But he'd never encouraged me to hide how powerful I was here. Mor's family, Keir especially, had expected that one of them would be next in line for the throne before I was born. By the time my mother had taken me to Lord Devlon's Illyrian war camp for training, I had had more attempts on my life than birthdays. Most of them had been attributed to one powerful family or another in the Court of Nightmares and my father had insisted that whenever we visited the city, I let my power roll free. Now, when I approached the gates of the Hewn City, it was instinct for me to let the power roll off of me in lethal waves.

Fueling those waves of power was the icy rage still coursing through my body. Someone had tried to kill Feyre and I hadn't found them. In my own territory. I had known she was at risk. Azriel has passed on information from his spies almost daily that the other Courts knew she'd left Spring and the various reactions to it. Amren and I had been vigilant about protect my borders and warding Velaris. Cassian anticipated that they would try something the second we left the protection of the wards. But I had expected to capture them and make them pay for it, whoever they were, whatever they were. The fact that they had escaped with their lives infuriated me to no end.

My power announced my presence before Cassian and Azriel did. The ground trembled with every step. Some of it was an intentional show, a reminder to the entire city that their High Lord was here and that they should be afraid. But some of it was the rage, seeking an outlet wherever it could..

Ahead of me, both of my brothers stared dead ahead, assuming that the citizens of the city would get out of our way as we approached. As we marched through the city and its inhabitants quaked, scurrying out of the streets and into their stone houses, ducking into alleyways and behind walls, as if they could hide from me. I felt their fear like palpable objects and there was part of me who relished in it. There were plenty of the Fae who lived in the Hewn City who could have connections to other Courts, plenty who could have happily sold us out to Hybern. Let them remember just how powerful their High Lord was. Let them fear me.

By the time we reached the castle gates, my anger had curled itself into something useful again and I could focus on the role that I was here to play. The castle's sentries, to their credits, didn't so much as shiver as we passed by. They didn't have to, their fear rolled off of them in waves, even if it was masked better than most. It was like this every time I came for a visit, no matter how long they'd known in advance that I was coming.

 _I'm here_ , I said to Mor's mind as I stalked through the courtyard. _What's the mood like?_

 _Pissy,_ she replied _._

 _Not more pissy than I am,"_ I snarled. _No questions as to why we're late?_

 _No one suspects a thing._

 _Good._ I hesitated and then asked, _How's Feyre?_

 _She's fine, Rhys._

And then I could hear Mor's voice echoing down the hall as we approached the throne room. At the sound of it, Azriel visibly tensed and Cassian's shoulders tightened. Their own leftover anger from the attack solidified into a brutal rage that I recognized, for I felt its mirror in myself every time I came to the Court of Nightmares. If I hated seeing Mor here, the feeling was magnified tenfold between the two of them. I rarely asked all three of them to be there at the same time because of it. I trusted Cassian and Azriel with my life and they obeyed my orders implicitly on the rare occasions that I gave them. But one of these days, I was afraid that they would tear every member of the Court of Nightmares to pieces. And one of these days, I would not bother to try to stop them.

Not for the the first time today, I reminded myself that this whole ordeal was going to be just as hard on my family as it was on me, just for different reasons. The thought made my power flare up, the shadows dancing in my wake as I strode into the throne room.

It was still as death inside, as it always was when I arrived. These people had been trained to fear me and I didn't have to break into any minds to know it. They all held their collective breaths, assessing for themselves just how foul my mood was.

Except for Feyre.

I felt her eyes on me the second I walked into the room. I found her next to Mor on the dias immediately and I locked gazes with her, a knot I hadn't realized was tied tight in my chest going loose at the sight of her.

Her grey eyes were dark, almost hungry as she stared at me. She kept her face impassive, but I felt her awe at my unleashed power, but only awe. There was no trace of fear in her eyes or along the bond, only some raw thing that made my blood thrum.

I was vaguely aware that Mor had bowed, and the rest of the courtiers had followed suit, but my attention was focused solely on Feyre. It was only when she, too, knelt on the ground that I remembered what we were here for, the role we were playing.

"Well, well, looks like you're all on time for once," I said, addressing the room for the first time.

From his position on the ground, Cassian looked up and gave me a wolfish grin. There had been an occasion, only one, that not everyone had been on time and I had allowed Cassian to display a measure of his anger to these people. Mor had a cousin here who probably still couldn't take a piss without cringing, and Cassian had meted out that particular punishment centuries ago. After that, my courtiers hadn't dared to step out of line, at least, not while I was present. But Cassian was still waiting for the day when one of them would and they all knew it.

I walked past him and stopped in front of where Feyre knelt. I thought I had prepared myself to see her this way, dressed and painted for the Court of Nightmares as she had been Under the Mountain. I had hated that part of our bargain. The way the women of the Court of Nightmares dressed had never bothered me before, but I had hated seeing her dressed in scraps of chiffon and on display for every male in the room back then. And that was before I had even bothered to acknowledge what she truly was to me. And now my mate knelt before me in those clothes and I did not feel any of what I had anticipated.

The dress Mor had shifted her into was spectacular in its indecency, the sparkling fabric clinging to her body, her pale skin almost glowing against the darkness of it, the blue black lines of her tattoo stark against her white skin. Her hair had been arranged into a shining mass of curls and braids atop her head, so that her back and neck were bare, and I could see her painted face reflected in the polished obsidian floor. A crown glittered amongst her curls and the expression she wore was nothing short of royal.

I bent so that I could grip her chin and raised her face to look at me. Mor had done something to her lashes to make them even longer and darker, and her lips...Mother above, her lips were painted into a blood red pout that made me think obscene and wonderful things. I gave her a little smile. "Welcome to my home, Feyre Cursebreaker."

She lowered her eyes, demure and respectful to her master. I could feel the eyes of every single person in the throne room on us, on her. Good. That was the point. I made sure that they all saw how I owned her, how she belonged only to me as I tightened my grip on her chin and clicked my tongue, "Come with me."

I pulled on her chin and she stood, smooth and graceful. The dress flowed around and between her legs and for a moment, I forgot where we were and what we were doing. She was beautiful and sensual and my blood hummed with desire at the sight of her.

I led her up the steps of the dais and to the throne. The entire room still bowed before us. I took the time to enjoy seeing them bow before her. There were people in this room who had whispered horrible things about her Under the Mountain. There were people in this room who had plotted to kill her only this morning. Let them bow before her a moment longer.

It was a salve to the part of me that was chaffed raw with worry over what we were about to do. Not much of one, but enough that I managed to keep my mask in place as I pulled her onto my lap and ran my hands over her bare skin.

She stiffened a little at the touch and I almost panicked. If she was having second thoughts, it would be difficult to extract her from the situation now. I'd do it. I'd find a way to get the Veritas and keep Feyre safe, but it would be hard, especially if we left now.

In the midst of my rising panic, I saw the gooseflesh rise on her skin and realized that my hands were still icy, a leftover effect from my rage. I willed warmth into my skin and brushed a newly warmed thumb along the inside of her thigh in silent apology.

I fell back into the role I was supposed to play and leaned in so that my lips nearly brushed her ear, one hand rising to trail over her ribs in long, slow circles. I whispered into her ear, but made sure it was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire room. "Try not to let it go to your head."

"What?" she asked, her voice warm and liquid and smooth as honey.

One of her curls tickled my nose as I said, "That every male in here is contemplating what they'd be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them."

It was not an exaggeration. My brief walk through their thoughts earlier had told me enough. I was not the only male in the room who'd noticed those red lips or the expanse of her creamy skin. And if any of them, male or female, hadn't been thinking about her mouth, they were sure as hell going to be now.

I felt a tremor of something along the bond. Not shyness or embarrassment, but something almost vicious. In my arms, Feyre smiled a bit, showing more of teeth than she usually did. My beautiful, powerful mate. I ran my hand higher up her thigh and let my fingers settle there, too high to be anything but an open display of my possession.

And, Cauldron boil me twice, she leaned into me, pressing her body against me, her head cocked, that smile still toying around the corners of her mouth. The Court of Nightmares still bowed before us, uncomfortable by now to be sure, but unwilling to move until I released them. Depending on my mood when I visited, I would sometimes keep them there on their knees for hours, sometimes only minutes. It served as a reminder to them that I was the most powerful High Lord in history, that they were subject to my every whim and that it was by my grace that they remained alive.

But, still as they were, by now their minds had flown in all directions as they took in Feyre on my lap, my hands on her skin, her body leaning against me. Theories were forming and I knew as soon as I released them, tongues would start wagging. Just as I wanted them too.

"Rise" I said. In a single, practiced movement, they got to their feet, and stood, waiting for me to let them loose. Finally, I said, "Go play," so they could begin their gossip mongering.

Music started up, and the crowd dispersed. They appeared to be partaking in their normal activities; circles of dancers forming near the musicians, wine flowing as plates were piled high with food, but I knew better. These people were snakes, all of them. None of it was visible to the untrained eye, but they were seeking their allies, spreading falsehoods to their enemies, parsing out the truth from fiction and determining at what price they would to sell it all. I knew that before we left today there would be rumors about Feyre's presence here across Prythian.

It was a paltry price to pay to save the world. I knew it and still, I had to force my hands to stay where they were on Feyre's body as I summoned Keir to the dais.

There was perhaps no one in the world who hated me more than Keir. Possibly Tamlin, but it would have been a close call. Keir hated everything I stood for and hated even more that he was not powerful enough to stop me from carrying any of it out. He was not stupid enough to make an enemy of me once I became High Lord, but he blamed me for what had happened with Mor and he despised me for raising her to a position of power over him.

He had good mental shields, had been trained by the best to keep them that way, but my powers were stronger. He didn't even realize that I'd slipped into his mind, didn't know that I felt his disgust as he walked by Mor, or how that disgust morphed into fear as he passed between Cassian and Azriel. I had made it very clear to everyone in my Inner Circle that Mor would be the one who meted out her family's punishment as she saw fit. We had all sworn a blood oath to her, but Keir didn't know that. All he knew was that Cassian had shouldered the burden of what had been done to his daughter, had honed it into something sharp and deadly and that it was waiting to escape. He knew that Azriel had been the one to find Mor's body and that my shadowsinger was by far the more dangerous of my brothers. And he knew that he only lived because Mor willed it.

"Report," I commanded as Keir stopped before the dais. I stroked a single knuckle over Feyre's ribs, still thin enough for me to detect each bone. Keir's eyes fixed on the movement of my hand and once he was distracted, I nodded to Mor, Cassian, and Azriel. Immediately, they disappeared into the crowd, Cassian and Mor to distract other members of her family and their allies while Azriel slipped away to steal the Veritas. Keir's attention didn't leave the dais, or my hand on Feyre's bare skin.

He struggled to keep his mind empty, but his thoughts were tinged with disgust and wrath. Neither of which showed on his face or in his voice as he said, "Greetings, milord." Another glance at Feyre, taking in her dress, her makeup, the crown atop her head. _You can dress her up like a queen all you want, but she's still human trash._ "And greetings to your...guest."

It was an effort not to snap his neck where he stood. Instead, I picked apart enough of his treacherous thoughts to remind him that I was daemati and could crush his mind like a grape if I chose to do so. I looked over Feyre's face, her lithe body across my lap, and said, "She is lovely, isn't she?"

"Indeed," he said, dropping his eyes back to the polished floor. "There is little to report, milord. All has been quiet since your last visit."

Considering that visit had been less than a month ago, I didn't doubt it. Still, I asked, "No one for me to punish?"

"Unless you'd like for me to select someone here, no, milord."

That had been a tradition my ancestors had used for a millennia. Nothing like the luck of the draw to ensure that your hellish courtiers stayed in line. And while there were few innocents who lived in the Hewn City, I had never punished anyone without due cause and I would not start now.

"Pity," I said with a click of my tongue. And then, because Keir's thoughts weren't entirely focused on us, I leaned forward and bit Feyre's earlobe.

I was unprepared for the taste of her on my tongue. Sweet, and spicy, and every so slightly salty from the sweat she'd worked up searching the forest floor for fallen arrows. My blood started to pulse and I had to clamp down on my body to keep it from reacting to the taste of her. Even so, my thumb moved higher on her leg, the touch visible to Keir as she melted into my body and her breathing hitched.

Every emotion, every instinct, every reaction of her body barreled down the bond at me. I tightened that clamp on the urges the taste of her had unlocked. It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this, so long since I'd craved the feeling of a body against mine. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to want to be touched by a female. And Feyre wasn't just any female. Feyre was my mate. Holding her like this, touching her, tasting her...I had not anticipated that it would be this hard to control my instincts, even with the crowd of hostile onlookers.

Keir was still talking about marriages and alliances and blood-feuds, disgust still tinging his thoughts. I let him talk, attuned myself to tenor of his thoughts, but didn't pay much attention to the words coming out of his mouth. Nothing had changed since I had been here last, he was right, and he resented having to give me nearly the same report he'd had to give in the recent past.

Most of my attention was focused on Feyre, on the bond between us and the way her skin felt beneath my fingers. I knew I had to be careful, that she likely still loved Tamlin, that for all her teasing and flirting, she didn't want me. I was straddling a dangerous line and I didn't want to end up on the wrong side of it.

I knew that every eye in the room was trained on us and I couldn't let the façade drop. My hand kept moving along her thigh, fingers brushing along the smooth, soft skin, higher with each pass. The throne room began to warm, the heat of dancing bodies writhing against each other warming the air. I scanned the thoughts in the room to make sure they were on us and adjusted how I touched Feyre's body to keep them interested. My eyes never left Keir's face as he discussed the Hewn City's gemstone trade with the other Courts and the cost of replacing a bridge that had recently fallen into disrepair.

I noticed his thoughts drifting to the rest of the room. The next time I nodded, I let my nose brush along Feyre's neck and shoulder, my lips ghosting over her throat. She smelled even more incredible now, her spicy sweet scent tinged with something that called to the primal part of me that I was working so hard to contain.

Keir was kind enough to distract me, his thoughts a cesspool of disgust, his voice losing some of its smoothness as he said, "I had heard the rumors and I didn't quite believe them." He ran an appraising eyes over Feyre's body, the way she was splayed across my lap, his gaze lingering on where my hands rested against her, especially the hand against her thigh. "But it seems true: Tamlin's pet is now owned by another master."

The words were a test. He didn't believe them, not yet. I ran my nose along the length of her neck again, breathing in her arousal as I murmured, "You should see how I make her beg."

"I assume you brought her to make a statement," Keir said, trying to assess how much of a statement I wanted to make and how much information he'd share with Beron.

"You know everything I do is a statement," I said, intentionally not giving him any indication of what that statement might be.

"Of course," Keir said, his annoyance and disgust finally apparent in his voice. "This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns."

Again, I debated killing him where he stood. While I debated if it was worth the annoyance it would cause, Feyre straightened in my arms and said in a low, wicked voice, "Perhaps I'll put a leash on you."

It was with great effort that I did not laugh out loud as Keir balked at her words. I caressed her mental shields and murmured again the bare skin of her shoulder, "She does enjoy playing."

And then, to remind him that I was his High Lord and that he was subject to my whims, and also to get him away from me so I didn't do something stupid, like kill him, I said "Get her some wine."

Keir obeyed immediately, his thoughts poisonous as he stalked away to follow my order.

I kissed her, light and quick, as she had once kissed me, and hoped it would convey everything I felt as I tried to get a handle on my emotions. I reminded myself that Keir was useful and that it was a bad time for me to get a new steward just because he was reacting to the bait set before him. I was grateful that Feyre hadn't honed her skills as a daemati yet. She had sensed Keir's disgust and risen to the occasion admirably, but I was glad that she didn't know what was going on in the thoughts of the people in this room.

But, as much as I hated what we were doing, it was working. Everyone focused completely on us. Mor and Cassian were both busy fielding subtle inquiries from different courtiers and not a soul was thinking about Azriel or where he was.

A new song began and Feyre twisted in my arms so that she could look up at me. Her face was impassive, almost bored and I kept my mask a mirror of hers as she opened her mental shields just a sliver.

 _What?_ I asked.

And then I felt her reach along the bond until she reached my own shields, felt her caress against them and I opened them just enough to let the light that was Feyre in. The glow that was the essence of her being warmed me from the inside out as she said, _You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it._

The words were a balm to my very soul. I couldn't stop my hands from tightening on her body in response as the desire to kiss her, to hold her and weep, to thank her in every way I knew how swept through me. I held her gaze and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

It was not like the kiss she'd given me after she'd rescued me from my nightmare. My lips lingered against the softness of her cheek and I felt her hot breath on the skin of my neck before I pulled away. She leaned into me, her legs widening just a bit more, the warmth of her body both soothing and stimulating me.

 _Why'd you stop?_

The words, spoken not just into my mind, but into the core of my being, loosened my grip on the leash I had over my body. I growled, quietly enough that no one in the room heard it, but enough that Feyre felt it. I brushed my fingers against her ribs, keeping time with the pulsing of the drums as she dropped her head against my shoulder, her crown of curls brushing against my jaw. In that moment, it occurred to me that this might be real, that this was perhaps not an act, that there might be a part of her that could actually want me.

The tension that she'd held in her body from the moment I'd perched her on my lap released and my own tension fell away with it as my hands explored her. And Feyre was exploring me too, her hand dragging down my leg, her fingers pressing into the muscle as she ran her hand back up. She kept her eyes on mine as she touched me and every ounce of the desire, the _need,_ she felt poured along the bond until each of her breathes was a spark that threatened to set me on fire.

And I wasn't the only one who was about to start burning. The air around us was much warmer than it had been only moments before. Beneath my hands, her skin was hot and dry, and I could feel her power sparking along the bond, threatening to consume us both.

 _Easy_ , I said into her mind. _If you become a living candle, poor Keir will throw a hissy fit. And then you'd ruin the party for everyone._

Even as I spoke, the knowledge that she was burning for me, that I was the one who had done this to her, had made me hard enough to be uncomfortable. I tried to shift my attention away from it, from her. I tried to focus on the thoughts in the room, on whether or not Azriel was back, on whether or not Keir was watching us. Tried and failed because she was still touching me and her skin was still hot to the touch and I still wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.

I shifted my hips and felt the tremor of pleasure that rippled down the bond at the contact, felt how she focused solely on the feeling of my body beneath her and my hands on her bare skin. I ran my hands up and down her body, savoring in the softness of her skin and the way she arched into my touch. I hooked my hand into the belt across her hips, fingers trailing across the expanse of flesh left bare by the scraps fabric that made up her dress.

She angled her head so that it rested in the juncture between my neck and shoulder, drawing my attention out to the crowd of courtiers before us. Their thoughts were completely absorb by us, but I barely saw them. In fact, I could hardly remember what we were doing and why we were doing it as my hands roamed over her, greedy for her and unable to get enough.

Feyre tipped her head and I followed her gaze over to where Keir stood, the wine I'd ordered him to get her growing warm in his hand as he watched us. He couldn't decide whether or not to interrupt us. He knew I had punished men for less, even though I hadn't done so in more than a century and he'd never, _ever_ seen me behave this way.

I stared him down and ran my tongue along the length of her neck and nearly swore out loud. The taste of her, the way her back arched, and her breaths coming out in short little gasps almost undid me. I drew my focus back to Keir, holding his gaze and made sure he saw how I touched her as if I had done it a thousand times and knew I would do it a thousand more. The expression on his face was visceral, his hatred and revulsion all but radiating off of him.

 _I think he's so disgusted that he might have given me the orb just to get out of here,_ I said as my hand drifted even higher on her thigh.

 _You and I put on a good show_ , she replied in a sultry voice that set every one of my nerve endings on fire. My hand slipped higher, my fingertips aching to find out just how soft the insides of her thighs were.

And she ground against me, her body sliding up and away and directly on top of my erection. I felt the thoughts leave her head, felt all her attention center on the length of me that pressed into her backside as she twisted her hips. Across from us, Keir might have actually gagged and I laughed.

The laughter died on my lips as she slid her tongue up from the back of my neck to just below my ear. I didn't think I could have possibly become harder, but I did. When she turned to face the room again, it was instinct that drove my lips to the back of her neck, that urged me to taste her again. She squirmed against my erection and I braced a hand against her thigh, trying to pull her tighter against me.

And found that thigh wet against my fingers.

A thousand scenarios flashed through my mind in the span of a second as my arms tightened around her. I saw myself ripping that ridiculous dress aside and plunging my fingers in deep into the source of that wetness. I saw myself laying her on the floor and burying my face between those soft, damp thighs. I saw myself spinning her around so that she straddled me and could fuck me right there on the throne. I didn't care that we were in the Court of Nightmares. I didn't care that Keir was watching us intently. I didn't care that Mor and Cassian were in the same room. All that mattered was that my mate was wet for me.

Wet _because of_ me.

Almost as the same time, I noticed that her skin was cool under my fingers. The fire crackling in her veins and threatening to consume us both flickered. Immediately, that primordial part of me that had been up in her thrall succumbed to shame and horror. This was not real for her. She had been playing a part and her body had gotten lost in the role and now she was embarrassed by it.

My revulsion with myself matched Keir's as I quickly said, _It's fine. It means nothing. It's just your body reacting_ —

 _Because you're so irresistible?_ she interrupted, that low sultry voice gone. I cursed myself to hell for ever asking her to practice writing with those arrogant, stupid sentences. To her mind, I managed a laugh, to help her see that it didn't matter, that none of this mattered.

And Azriel, who had saved me from so many things on so many occasions, chose that moment to appear and give me a slight nod. The signal that he'd retrieved the orb. I watched while Mor sidled up to him and he gave her waist the single squeeze that was the second signal. No problems then. Everything had gone well and no one suspected a thing.

I crooked a lazy finger at Keir. He tore his attention away from his daughter and came forward with Feyre's wine, all manner of dark thoughts swimming through his twisted brain. Most were still directed at me, some at his daughter, some at Feyre, all centered around themes of hatred and humiliation. I used my power to take the wine from him before he could set foot on the dais and set it at our feet.

"Should I test it for poison?" I asked as I spoke into Feyre's mind, _Cassian's waiting. Go._

"No, milord," Keir said as Feyre untangled herself from my arms, a carnal, satisfied smile on her lips as she stood and walked to the edge of the dais. "I would never dare harm you."

She had almost made it to Cassian. The whole ordeal was nearly over and we have would been free to leave without raising suspicion. As Feyre strode past Keir, he hissed, "You'll get what's coming to you, whore."

Every single carefully controlled leash I'd bridled myself with disintegrated at those words. All my worry from the morning, all my rage from being attacked, all the sexual tension, all my anger and horror with myself exploded into a wave of night so utterly black and heavy that it was as if the sun had suddenly burst. The room went pitch black and my power lashed itself around Keir's arms and legs, dragging him to the ground as the Court of Nightmares screamed in terror.

I had tolerated more than was perhaps my fair share of remonstrance over the years. It was a lesson my father had taught me early: I was powerful and therefore I would be tested. Often. People would never stop testing me, never stop trying to assert themselves over me. He had taught me to fight when I needed to and my mother had taught me that there were times when I could walk away. I had seen the people I loved killed and the things I cherished destroyed. I had fought for what was important and shown mercy to those who did not deserve it. And when Amarantha had come, I had let her use me to save my people. I hadn't cared that they called me her whore because it had been my choice. I would have done it again, a thousand times over, if it meant saving my territory, my city, my family.

But I would not tolerate any threat against my mate.

The darkness faded and I saw Mor and Azriel making their way towards me, to keep me in line or to provide back up, I wasn't sure. It was Mor's presence that kept me from killing him outright. I had sworn that she would get to chose when and how her father died. I had sworn a blood oath to her and had made my entire Inner Circle do the same. I would not break it.

"Apologize," I demanded.

On the ground, Keir's body trembled with effort as he tried to break through the bonds of my magic, but I was too strong. He'd never challenged me outright, had always been smart enough to hire assassins or bribe and trick other powerful families into doing it for him. Now, he had no idea what he had done, and still he strained against my power. Still thought he could escape me.

"I said, apologize."

I saw his thoughts and realized that he had no intention of doing any such thing. To him, Feyre was human trash, despicable and pathetic and he wanted her dead for upsetting the balance of power he had so carefully cultivated here. And I remembered that all I promised Mor was that I would let her decide when and how her father would die. There had been nothing in that blood oath about torture.

I lashed my power down along his arm, enjoying Keir's screams as his bones shattered. The rest of the throne room was silent as death as his shrieks of agony filled the air. No one was stupid enough to try to stop me. No one, that is, except Keir, who clung to the idea that he could get away without obeying me.

It took half a thought to crush the bones of his elbow into dust.

Keir's thoughts were still full of hate and vitriol, even as he sobbed on the ground. After a moment, he mouthed _I'm sorry_.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough to allow anyone who threatened Feyre to live. I smashed the bones in his other arm, but it didn't quell the beast that his threat had brought to life. Keir writhed on the ground, screaming.

I looked up and smiled at the Court of Nightmares. "Should I kill him for it?"

Silence.

I chuckled, the mask of the cool and cruel High Lord of the Night Court firmly place, and looked back at Keir. "When you wake up, you're not to see a healer. If I hear that you do…" I obliterated the bones in his pinkie, until they were so small it would take his body years to put them back together. "If I hear that you do, I'll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again."

I wrapped a thread of power around his brain and let the threat of what I could do to him with that thread of power sink through the fog of pain. Keir's eyes went wide with panic as he realized that I held his mind in my hands, his thoughts going perfectly blank as I considered what Mor would do to me if I turned her father into a slobbering idiot. Beyond Keir's prone body, I saw Feyre watching me, her face impassive, her eyes dark as stormclouds. And then I felt the cringe that still lingered in the bond. And that was all it took to tame the angry beast I had become. I yanked on the thread and Keir's body collapsed on the floor, still as death.

"Dump him in his room," I ordered, knowing that someone would scramble to obey.

I didn't pay attention to who grabbed Keir and dragged him away. I gestured to one of Mor's cousins, pale and trembling with fright to come finish Keir's report.

Feyre finished crossing the room to Cassian's side, her face blank and bored. Something along the bond had changed, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. I didn't sense that old nervousness or repulsion from her, but I didn't know if that was because she was very good a wearing a mask or not. She'd left that sliver of her mental shields open for me, but I couldn't bring myself to slip back inside. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what she thought of me now.

Every fear, every hesitation, every ounce of worry from earlier drilled into me now. I shouldn't have let her come. I should have found a different way to get the orb or figured out something else to show the mortal queens. If I had destroyed things with Feyre, I would never be able to forgive myself. If she started looking at me like I was a monster again, I didn't know what I would do.

I had the feeling I would never recover.


End file.
